MSMAK 

1.1     i    JLZ  UL  1 

GOUVWNEUR 


Ellen  and  Mr.  Man 


M.  Carriere 


Ellen  and  Mr.  Man 


BY 


GOUVERNEUR    MORRIS 

AUTHOR  OF   "TOM  BEAULING,"   "ALADDIN 
O'BRIEN,"  ETC. 


NEW    YORK 
THE    CENTURY   CO. 

1904 


013 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


Published  October,  1904 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS 


TO 

ISABELLA    AND    HERBERT    HARRIMAN 

IN  WHOSE  HOUSE  AT  AIKEN   I  WROTE  THIS 
STORY  AND  WAS   VERY   HAPPY 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


M.  Carriere Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

He  gathered  his  books  together  and  came  home   122 
"But  just  one  picture  more,"  said  madame  .     .   166 


ELLEN  AND  MR.  MAN 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 


ROM  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  when  my  father  usually 
went  to  town,  until  the  very  un 
certain  hour  of  that  gentleman's  return,  I, 
Edward  Holinshed  III,  did  what  I  pleased. 
True,  I  was  sometimes  set  lessons  and 
sometimes  heard  to  recite  them,  but  more 
often  not.  From  the  time  I  could  walk 
I  was  my  own  master.  It  was  my  own 
business  if  I  got  drowned,  fell  out  of  a 
tree  and  broke  my  neck,  or  improved  my 
mind  with  reading.  I  learned  to  read,  ly 
ing  on  my  stomach  behind  the  sofa  in  the 
parlor,  out  of  a  c-a-t-cat  book  at  a  very 
early  age.  Sometimes  my  father  taught 
3 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

me  a  letter,  sometimes  the  servant-girl  did. 
For  a  long  time  the  letters  meant  nothing 
and  seemed  very  foolish  things  to  be  trou 
bled  with,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden — it 
actually  happened  all  of  a  sudden,  and  I 
was  lying  on  my  stomach  by  the  French 
window  back  of  the  sofa  at  the  time— they 
meant  everything  and  I  was  able  to  read. 
Soon  I  could  read  fluently,  and  before  I 
was  ten  I  had  read  every  book  in  the  house 
and  nearly  all  the  bound  magazines.  It 
is  fortunate  that  the  books  in  the  house 
were  really  worth-while  books  most  of 
them,  because  I  would  have  read  anything. 
I  would  have  read  Quackenbosh's  "  Dis 
eases  of  the  Eye  and  Ear  "  or  Medico's 
"  Obstetrics  "  if  there  had  been  nothing 
else,  and  it  would  not  have  been  good  for 
me.  We  had  broken  sets  of  Thackeray, 
Dickens,  Scott,  Cooper,  Du  Chaillu's  first 
African  book  (the  pale-blue  one  with  a  gilt 
gorilla  breaking  a  musket  on  the  back), the 
National  Cyclopedia,  fifty  comedies  and 
tragedies  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  (that 
was  rare  reading),  the  "  Divine  Comedy  " 
4 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

undone  into  English,  an  expurgated  "Ara 
bian  Nights,"  Bolton's  "  History  of  West- 
chester,"  and  Baker's  "  Chronicle."  There 
were,  besides,  books  on  surveying,  gun 
nery,  and  ship-building,  the  which  I  did 
not  understand,  but  read  with  fanatic  zeal. 
Although  I  was  my  own  master,  it  was 
many  years  before  I  ventured  beyond  the 
confines  of  the  island  on  which  I  lived. 
It  was  a  world  proportioned  to  my  tiny 
stature.  I  knew  and  understood  it  thor 
oughly.  There  was  nothing  in  it  that 
I  feared  in  the  daytime,  except  the  two 
big  staghounds  that  lived  on  the  front 
porch  of  the  big  house.  That  was  the  tall, 
proud  house  of  Mosquito  Row,  and  had 
the  most  land  about  it  and,  except  for 
the  Holinshed  sassafrases,  the  finest 
trees.  It  was  a  big  pillared  house  with 
two  front  doors,  one  at  each  end  of  the 
fine  high  hall.  They  were  both  front 
doors,  because  they  were  exactly  alike, 
and  people  were  welcomed  at  either. 
There  was  beautiful  armor  in  the  hall, 
and  harquebuses,  and  splendid  trophies 
5 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

or  swords,  and  rare  tapestries ;  but  I  found 
out  all  that  later.  In  my  infancy  I  knew 
only  what  the  people  who  lived  in  the  big 
house  looked  like,  and  with  what  feelings 
of  terror  the  staghounds  inspired  me. 
The  world  beyond  the  island  was  a  large 
and  terrible  place ;  for  years  it  did  not  even 
invite:  half-way  over  the  bridge  I  had 
been,  and  half-way  over  the  causeway;  no 
farther. 

I  had  thus  ventured  often,  always  to 
become  terrified  at  the  vastness  of  the 
beyond,  and  to  return  on  swift,  patter 
ing  feet.  Often  I  met  strange  people  com 
ing  to  the  island  by  the  boulevard,  and  al 
ways  I  spoke  to  them  politely  and  took  off 
my  cap.  I  do  not  know  how  I  came  by 
such  ingenuous  and  pleasant  manners,  for 
I  was  never  taught  any.  In  books  people 
were  forever  "  accosting "  other  people, 
and  probably  that  is  why  I  did.  I  was 
particularly  gracious  to  tramps,  with 
which  the  county  was  infested,  and  feared 
them  not  at  all.  I  would  have  tramps  to 
lunch  with  me  in  the  pantry  when  the  ser- 
6 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

vant-girl  was  out.  I  would  give  them  the 
best  I  knew,  bread  and  butter  spread  with 
brown  sugar  (mm!  mm!),  and  they  never 
—not  one  of  them— ever  betrayed  my  hos 
pitality,  or  took  anything  that  was  not 
offered.  And,  oh,  the  pleasant  man  that  a 
tramp  is  when  you  are  doing  him  a  favor 
and  wishing  him  well  from  the  bottom  of 
your  innocent  heart! 

I  was  led  astray  by  a  butterfly.  I  was 
kind  to  tramps,  but  never  to  butterflies.  I 
used  to  catch  them  and  pin  them  in  a  box 
I  had.  The  butterfly  that  led  me  astray 
was  a  yellow  butterfly  with  long  tails  and 
black  markings.  I  saw  it  from  the  win 
dow  of  my  room  making  free  with  a  red 
geranium  that  belonged  to  the  Cotters.  I 
slipped  out  on  the  tin  roof,  for  it  would 
not  do  to  go  down  by  the  stairs  and  lose 
sight  of  the  quarry,  embraced  a  part  of  the 
veranda  with  arms  and  legs,  slid,  ripping 
my  breeches  nearly  in  two  on  the  hammock 
hook,  to  the  rail,  and  dropped  to  the  ground. 
My  butterfly-net  happened  to  be  lying 
where  I  had  left  it  in  the  dandeliony  grass. 
7 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

I  snatched  it  up  and  started  in  pursuit  of 
the  yellow  monster.  Three  times  around 
the  Cotters'  house  I  pursued  the  butterfly 
—a  very  zealous  Achilles  after  a  very  deb 
onair  Hector.,  And  then  it  led  me  a  chase 
around  my  own  house  (where  it  found  no 
flowers  to  refresh  it),  across  the  lawn  (it 
needed  mowing),  down  the  maple-shaded 
road,  past  the  public  house  of  Mr.  Arcu- 
larius,  and  over  the  bridge.  So  intent  was 
the  pursuit  that  I  was  hardly  conscious 
of  having  crossed  the  bridge.  Before  my 
very  eyes,  almost  within  my  grasp,  flirted 
the  beautiful  creature  of  my  desire,  and 
within  my  breast  beat  no  fear  of  unknown 
lands.  Across  the  bridge  and  the  cause 
way  which  complemented  it,  past  the  pub 
lic  house  of  Mr.  Blizzard  and  the  four 
worm-eaten  telegraph  poles  (that  sang  of 
unknown  lands),  was  a  breathless  chase. 
There  was  no  speck  of  green  or  odor  of 
flower  to  tempt  to  rest  and  refreshment 
the  fairy  feet  and  well-curled  proboscis  of 
the  butterfly— those  feet  that  could  not 
muddy  a  tea-rose,  and  that  proboscis 
8 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

(curled  like  the  mainspring  of  a  fairy's 
watch)  down  which  nothing  less  sweet 
than  honey  ever  passed.  I,  apparently, 
was  the  only  thing  that  tempted  the  but 
terfly,  and— gigantic  paradox— it  was  the 
butterfly  that  tempted  me. 

Presently  it  mounted  high  and  turned  to 
the  right  among  the  tree-tops  of  Pelham 
wrood— that  place  of  cool  colonnades,  of 
dogwood  and  wild  flowers,  of  moss  and 
mystery.  I  scrambled  up  a  steep  rock, 
rolled  over  the  stone  wall  that  skirted  the 
wood,  padded  through  a  bed  of  prickly- 
pears,  and  was  after  it.  I  saw  the  yellow 
flittings  of  it  among  the  tender  tree-tops; 
I  saw  it  descend  into  an  open  glade  and 
light  upon  a  brier-rose — so  pink,  so  floppy, 
and  so  fresh.  I  stalked  it  as  a  hungry 
hunter  might  stalk  the  only  specimen  of 
game  he  was  ever  likely  to  see.  I  came 
within  striking  distance,  swung  the  green 
net,  and  was  eluded.  The  butterfly  left  the 
rose  for  the  violet — as  many  a  better  man 
has  done — and  eluded  me  again.  With 
each  elusion  my  determination  waxed— 
9 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

with  Cadieux  (which  was  the  name  of  a 
man),  I  might  have  said:  "  C'est  ici  que 
je  va  finir  cette  campagne." 

I  redoubled  my  efforts,  became  wily  and 
astute,  almost  criminal,  but  without  suc 
cess.  The  day  began  to  wane,  and  we 
were  still  beating  about  the  bush.  Then 
suddenly  we  came  to  the  other  edge  of 
Pelham  wood— a  sharp  rise,  a  stone  wall, 
farm-buildings,  and,  beyond,  rolling  open 
land  studded  with  great  elms  and  willows, 
backed  in  turn  by  delicious  woods,  and  a 
house  covered  with  vines,  and  outbuild 
ings  and  gardens  and  lilacs  in  the  middle 
ground.  The  butterfly  flew  over  the  wall, 
and  I  had  climbed  to  its  summit  (stone 
walls  had  summits  in  those  days),  when, 
below  me  and  to  my  right,  a  tremendous 
grunting  arose.  That  was  my  first  real 
fright  in  the  \vorld.  I  forgot  the  butterfly 
and  clung  to  the  summit  of  the  wall,  and 
I  think  my  heart  stopped  beating  for  a 
while.  A  medley  of  varicolored,  broad, 
powerful  backs  wrinkled  at  my  feet,  blunt 
snouts  tried  to  get  me,  and  murderous 
10 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

gruntings  shook  the  air.  Slowly,  for  I 
had  never  seen  a  pig,  reason  and  memory 
came  to  my  aid.  I  reasoned  that  if  they 
had  not  got  me  yet,  they  were  not  likely  to 
get  me,  and  remembered  in  the  c-a-t- 
cat  book  a  certain  reassuring  cut  beneath 
which  was  written  p-i-g,  pig.  The  stone 
wall  upon  which  I  was  perched  formed  the 
front  of  the  sty,  parallel  walls  built  into 
this  formed  the  sides,  and  the  back  was  a 
kind  of  lean-to  containing  a  trough.  See 
ing  these  things,!  lost  fear,  and, to  revenge 
myself,  proceeded  to  beat  the  pigs  with 
the  handle  of  my  net  and  to  inflict  just 
chastisement  upon  them  with  stones. 

It  is  pleasant  to  annoy  pigs,  but  one 
cannot  do  it  forever,  and  soon  I  began  to 
re-bethink  me  of  the  butterfly.  It  was 
waiting  for  me  on  a  purple  thistle.  I  de 
scended  the  wall  and  made  after  it.  To  my 
left  was  a  great  inclosure  of  barns  and 
sheds.  Swallows  darted  about  it  (for  no 
reason  that  I  could  see),  and  kept  disap 
pearing  into  dark  shadowy  places  and  ap 
pearing  suddenly  from  them.  A  very  old 
1 1 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

horse  browsed  by  the  side  of  the  road,  and 
a  whole  gaggle  of  white  geese  hissed  at 
me.  Then  I  entered  the  garden  to  the  right 
of  the  vine-covered  house.  It  was  more 
like  a  paradise  than  a  garden.  I  cannot 
describe  it.  I  merely  know  that  when 
you  have  mentioned  everything  that  ought 
to  be  in  a  garden  you  have  only  begun  to 
mention  the  things  that  were  in  that  gar 
den. 

It  was  square,  with  a  high  brick  wall 
on  two  sides,  a  low  stone  wall  backed  by 
big  wild  cherry-trees  on  the  third,  and  on 
the  fourth,  the  side  toward  the  house,  a 
hedge  of  wild  roses,  tamed  and  made  to 
behave  themselves.  It  was  divided  rect 
angularly  by  little  gravel  paths  edged  with 
box.  In  the  center  were  two  lilacs  (veri 
table  trees),  one  white  and  one  lavender, 
in  the  fullest  bloom,  and  up  and  down  the 
paths  were  all  manner  of  flowers,  and  the 
smells  of  lilac  and  sweet  geranium  and 
lemon-verbena.  The  butterfly  having  for 
the  moment  disappeared,  I  descried  in 
the  angle  of  the  two  brick  walls  a  lump  of 
12 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

what  appeared  to  be  gray  paper  and  mud. 
It  was  indescribably  fascinating,  because 
it  had  a  shape  and  yet  not  a  shape,  and 
because  I  had  never  seen  anything  like  it 
before.  So  to  ascertain  more  justly  its 
fascinating  properties,  I  gave  it  a  tenta 
tive  poke  with  the  handle  of  my  butterfly 
net,  and  was  presently  rushing  down  a 
path  of  the  garden,  howling. 

They  stung  me  nine  times — three  times 
on  the  right  hand,  twice  on  the  left,  and 
four  times  on  the  face. 

A  strong,  grimy  hand  arrested  my  flight 
and  my  howls.  I  looked  through  tears  into 
a  big,  sandy,  red  face  with  a  stubbly  beard 
and  blue  eyes. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"  I  'm  stung,"  I  said. 

This  must  have  been  evident  to  the  gar 
dener  now  that  he  looked  at  me.  He 
scooped  up  some  loam  in  his  big,  grimy 
hand,  with  its  jet-edged,  bitten  nails,  and 
spat  darkly  into  it.  When  he  had  made 
mud  he  anointed  the  places  of  torment, 
and  told  me  to  let  it  stay  until  it  dried.  The 
13 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

mud  was  cool  and  there  was  an  aromatic 
smell  about  it. 

"  This,"  said  the  gardener,  "  will  be  a 
lesson  to  you  not  to  go  monkeying  in 
other  people's  gardens.  What  may  your 
name  be?  " 

"  Nedward  Holinshed,"  I  said  (for  I 
thought  that  was  the  way  to  say  it). 

The  gardener  pursed  up  his  lips  and 
whistled. 

"  Then  I  guess  I  've  got  nothing  to  say," 
he  said.  "  Run  along,  enjoy  yourself, 
make  yourself  free  of  the  garden,  only 
don't  pick  flowers  and  don't  get  stung. 
Maybe,"  he  said,  and  he  smiled  a  smile 
that  may  have  been  satirical,  "  if  you  go  up 
to  the  house  the  old  gentleman  will  give 
you  a  stick  of  candy." 

It  was  wonderful  to  me  to  find  my  name 
so  well  known  and  so  influential  in  that 
far  country,  and  wonderful  to  think  of  the 
stick  of  candy  which  the  old  gentleman 
was  perhaps  dying  to  give  me. 

Nevertheless,  I  approached  the  house 
from  the  rear  and  not  without  misgivings. 
14 


II 


i  HE  house  was  a  kind  of  contra 
diction  to  the  air  of  opulence  ad 
vanced  by  the  garden,  the  well- 
trimmed  lawns,  and  the  handsome  orchard 
lands.  It  was  quite  small,  but  in  the  most 
charming  manner  of  the  colonial  Dutch. 
The  front  and  rear  of  the  house  were 
white-pillared  verandas,  verdant  and 
odorous  with  vines,  rose  and  honeysuckle. 
The  roof  of  the  house  flowed  by  lovely 
curves  and  rested  (with  a  slight  projec 
tion)  on  the  voluted  capitals  of  the  ve 
randa  columns.  At  either  side  of  the 
house  were  flat,  wide  brick  chimneys  that 
rose  well  above  the  highest  point  of  the 
roof.  The  highest  point  of  the  roof  was 
flat  and  oblong,  like  the  bridge  of  a 
steamer,  and  an  ornamental  railing  of 
white  ran  around  it.  For  the  rest,  the 
house  was  painted  the  color  of  an  old- 
15 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

fashioned  yellow  rose,  and  the  shutters 
of  it  were  white.  You  went  in  from  either 
veranda,  through  doors  that  opened  by 
halves  or  all  together,  as  you  pleased,  and 
when  you  were  inside—  But  we  are  not. 

We  are  at  present  stealthily  approach 
ing  the  house  from  the  rear.  Indeed,  if 
you  will  believe  it,  we  are  lying  flat  on  our 
stomach  behind  a  flower-bed  and  listening 
to  a  piano  for  the  first  time  in  our  life. 
The  music  comes  sweetly  out  of  the  open 
windows  that  are  to  the  right  of  the  door 
that  opens  by  halves,  and  the  air  that  we 
are  listening  to  is  one  that  we  have  never 
forgotten,  though  it  is  to  be  years  before 
we  find  out  its  name.  It  is  an  air  made 
up  of  sunshine  and  sweetness  and  sadness ; 
it  is  as  clear  as  honey  and  as  golden  as 
gold.  It  is  by  Mozart,  and  it  is  called 
'  La  ci  darem  la  mano "  —  "Hand  in 
Hand  We  '11  Wander."  Perhaps  we  are 
listening  to  prophetic  music.  Who  knows  ? 

The  sun  is  going  down  on  the  other  side 
of  the  house,  and  we  are  lying  on  the  long, 
cool  shadows.  The  grass  is  turning  damp, 
16 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

but  we  are  not  afraid  of  pneumonia  or 
malaria.  The  piano  has  been  modulating 
from  one  key  to  another,  and  now  we  are 
listening  to  a  song.  We  have  heard  our 
maid-servant  sing;  we  have  heard  our  fa 
ther  in  his  cups  sing  "  Down  on  the  Coast 
of  New  Barbarie-ie-ie  " ;  we  ourselves,  for 
we  are  only  seven,  have  often  sung  songs 
without  words,  to  tunes  of  our  own  mak 
ing;  but  now  we  are  listening  to  real  sing 
ing—for  the  first  time — real  singing.  Our 
trousers  are  torn,  our  feet  are  weary,  our 
hands  and  face  are  swollen  and  covered 
with  mud  and  tobacco-juice,  but  we  do  not 
mind  that.  There  is  a  golden  bar  of  sound, 
round  and  perfect,  that  is  melting  into  our 
heart,  and  although  we  do  not  understand 
a  word,  we  know  that  a  cheerful  person 
is  unhappy  and  making  the  best  of  it. 

"  A  la  claire  fontaine 
M'en  allant  promener, 
J'ai  trouver  1'eau  si  belle 
Que  je  m'y  suis  baigne 
Lui  a  longtemps  que  je  t'aime, 
Jamais  je  ne  t'oublierais." 

•7 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

It  is  quite  a  long  song,  and  the  accom 
paniment  swings  along  evenly  (with  much 
repetition  of  one  note,  like  a  lullaby) ;  but 
we  have  been  magnetized  by  it,  for  we  are 
kneeling  by  a  window  now,  and  our  plain 
little  swollen,  freckled  face  is  peering  into 
a  twilit  room.  We  are  being  told  (though 
we  do  not  know  it)  that 

"  J'ai  perdue  ma  maitresse 
Sans  1'avoir  merite 
Pour  un  bouquet  de  roses 
Que  je  lui  refusals." 

And  the  reiteration  that 

"  Lui  a  longtemps  que  je  t'aime, 
Jamais  je  ne  t'oublierais." 

And  now  we  ought  to  be  finding  out 
(though  \ve  are  not)  what  a  brave  heart 
was  to  the  man  who  lost  his  mistress  with 
out  deserving  to,  for  these  are  the  words 
that  are  being  sung  to  us,  to  an  accompani 
ment  that  somehow  has  become  humorous 
and  gay : 

18 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

"  Je  voudrais  que  la  rose 
Fut  encore  au  rosier, 
Et  que  le  rosier  meme 
Fut  a  la  mer  jete." 

That 's  what  we  heard  as  we  peered 
into  the  room,  but  what  did  we  see?  We 
saw  a  girl  with  a  thick  braid  of  golden- 
brown  hair  that  grew  out  of  a  glorious 
crown  of  the  same  and  hung  down  below 
the  bluest  ribbon  that  gathered  the  fluffi 
est,  floatiest  white  dress  about  her  waist. 
Her  back  was  to  us,  and  she  sat  at  the 
piano  without  affectation  and  made  music. 
Now  she  has  stopped.  She  has  turned,  and 
we  are  face  to  face.  Her  face  was  one 
that  God  had  cut  out  of  a  rose.  That  is  all 
there  is  to  say  about  it. 

She  came  to  the  window.  I  saw  that 
she  was  very  tall. 

"Did  you  like  the  music,  Mr.  Man?" 
she  said. 

She  had  mistaken  me  for  a  man ! 

I  drank  to  her  only  with  my  eyes ;  words 
failed. 

'  Why  have  you  got  those  lumps  of 
19 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

mud  on  your  face,  Mr.  Man?"  she 
said. 

"  I  was  stung,"  I  stuttered. 

"  Mm,"  she  said.  '  Did  you  try  to  play 
with  the  hornets?  I  did  once,"  she  said, 
"  and  they  stung  me  dreadfully ! " 

"  They  would  n't  sting  you,  would 
they?"  I  said. 

It  passed  belief.  Who  would  have 
dared ! 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Man,"  she  said,  "  I 
think  it  would  be  fun  if  we  washed  your 
face,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  The  gentleman  in  the  garden  put  mud 
on  my  hands,  too,"  I  said. 

How  I  have  squirmed  when  the  red- 
handed  maid  at  home  has  washed  me,  how 
I  have  thought  murder  when  she  got  the 
soap  in  my  eyes !  And  here  I  was  not  only 
eager  to  have  a  certain  person  wash  my 
face,  but  afraid  lest  she  would  not  wash 
my  hands  as  well. 

We  went  through  the  hall,  hung  with 
austere,  badly  painted  portraits  of  ances 
tors,  through  the  dining-room,  very  rich 
20 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

and  dignified  with  old  silver,  mahogany, 
and  better  portraits,  and  presently,  coat- 
less  and  sleeves  rolled  up,  I  was  bending 
over  the  sink  in  the  butler's  pantry,  being 
washed.  Oh,  the  ecstasy  of  it!  I  have 
tried  to  keep  clean  ever  since.  No  unneces 
sary  scrubbing,  no  soap  in  the  eyes!  A 
grown  cat  would  have  let  that  girl  wash 
him — aye,  with  soap — and  purred  his 
thanks.  And  now,  behold,  there  are  crisp 
cookies  with  anise-seeds  within  me,  and  I 
am  beaming  all  over. 

"  Mr.  Man,"  said  the  girl,  "  suppose 
your  mightiness  tells  me  its  name." 

I  knew  now  that  she  had  been  making 
fun  of  me  with  her  "  Mr.  Man,"  but  I  did 
not  mind.  I  loved  it. 

"  My  name  is  Nedward  Holinshed,"  I 
said. 

What  was  there  in  that  name  to  create 
such  a  stir— first  the  man  in  the  garden, 
now  the  girl  in  the  house?  Why  did 
she  go  down  on  her  knees  before  me  with 
half  a  sob  ?  Why  did  she  take  the  ragged, 
pitiful  little  creature  that  was  I,  and  hold 
21 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

it  hard  against  her  breast?  Why  did  she 
kiss  me  on  the  mouth,  and  why  did  tears 
come  out  of  her  glorious,  fun-loving  eyes, 
and  wet  her  cheeks  and  mine  ?  Could  any 
thing  less  than  conception,  labor,  and  the 
love  of  the  first-born  have  so  changed  that 
young  girl's  face  and  given  it  the  look  that 
it  now  wore?  Was  pity  hand  in  glove 
with  love,  and  did  she  love  me  as  a  mother 
loves  her  child  ?  I  think  it  was  almost  that, 
for  I  was  her  brother's  son. 

We  sat  out  the  long  summer  twilight  in 
the  room  where  the  piano  wras;  we  heard 
the  tree-toads  piping  and  the  crickets  fid 
dling  ;  we  smelled  the  roses  and  honeysuck 
les — and  we  waited  for  the  family.  My 
aunt  Ellen  put  her  arm  around  me,  and 
she  made  me  (she  did  not  have  to  do  much 
making)  put  mine  around  her. 

"  Mr.  Man,"  she  said,  "  if  I  had  ever 
realized,  but  I  never  did !  You  and  I  are 
both  too  young  to  understand  things,  but 
your  father,  dear,  and  mine  quarreled, 
a  long  time  ago,  and  that  's  why  we  've 
never  seen  each  other;  but  I  'm  going  to 

22 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

change  it  all,  if  I  can.  You  see,  dear,  I 
never  realized  before,  and — and  you  must 
forgive  me." 

'  What  did  they  quarrel  about?  "  I  said. 

'  We  are  not  old  enough  to  talk  about 
that,"  said  my  aunt  Ellen,  "  and  we  must 
never  try  to  find  out  who  was  right  and 
who  was  wrong.  We  must  have  faith  in 
the  people  that  belong  to  us— and  that 's 
all." 

''  Don't  my  father  and  your  father  ever 
speak  to  each  other?  "  said  I. 

"  No,  dear;  they— they  can't  get  on  to 
gether,  that 's  all.  Some  day  we  '11  under 
stand." 

My  grandfather  was  coming  up  from 
town  presently  with  my  two  uncles  and  my 
other  aunt.  My  grandfather  was  a  very 
rich  man,  president  of  railroads  and 
things,  and  my  uncles  helped  him  to  be 
rich  and  hoped  they  would  get  it  all  when 
he  died.  My  other  aunt's  name  was  Vio 
let;  she  was  nearly  three  times  as  old  as 
Ellen,  and— we  are  coming  to  her.  Or, 
rather,  they  are  all  coming  to  us,  for  now 
23 


ELLEN    AND   MR.  MAN 

there  is  a  sound  of  wheels  on  gravel,  and 
Ellen  and  I  are  standing  in  the  hall  hold 
ing  hands.  The  first  person  to  enter  is 
Aunt  Violet.  Take  a  very  thin  old  bird 
of  the  hawk  family,  deprive  it  of  skin 
and  feathers,  and  you  have  a  picture  of 
Aunt  Violet.  She  was  followed  by  the  two 
uncles ;  they  were  tall,  thin  men  with  hawk 
faces.  Their  father  came  last.  He  had  a 
head  and  a  beard  like  Neptune,  and  was  of 
colossal  size.  What  was  so  repulsive  in 
his  sons  and  eldest  daughter  was  almost 
beautiful  in  him — the  strong  hooked  nose, 
the  black,  needling  eyes,  the  haughty  car 
riage,  the  deep  lines  of  living  and  race. 
He  looked  a  man  of  indomitable  will, 
strong  and  violent.  The  uncles  and  aunt 
had  entered,  all  talking  at  once  with  loud, 
rather  well-bred,  very  arrogant  voices. 
The  grandfather  entered  in  silence,  and 
the  floor-boards  creaked  under  his  great 
weight.  Ellen  and  I  advanced,  holding 
hands. 

"  Father,"  said  Ellen,  and  she  looked 
24 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

him  straight  in  the  eyes,   "  this  is  your 
grandson,   Edward  Holinshed." 

The  three  hawks  turned  their  hard 
faces  in  my  direction.  My  grandfather 
frowned,  but  did  not  look  at  me. 

"  Is  it?  "  he  said.  His  voice,  too,  was 
very  arrogant.  "  Tell  him,"  he  said,  "  not 
to  come  here  any  more." 

"  Father,"  said  Ellen,  and  she  laid  her 
free  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  "  this  is  your 
grandson;  he  has  the  same  name  as  your 
self,  and  he  has  never  done  any  harm  to 
anybody.  He  is  allowed  to  run  wild ;  there 
is  no  one  to  look  after  him  or  to  care  about 
him ;  and  he  is  fine  and  true  right  through, 
and  he  does  n't  know  anything  evil,  and  if 
by  any  chance  you  are  looking  for  a  de 
scendant  to  be  proud  of-  '  Ellen's  voice 
was  growing  a  little  scornful  and  arro 
gant. 

The  upper  half  of  the  front  door  was 
open  and  made  a  black  square  of  night  be 
hind  the  old  man.    He  turned  and  pointed 
to  it  with  his  beautiful  great  hand. 
25 


ELLEN   AND   MR.   MAN 

"  Is  he  afraid  to  go  home  alone  in  the 
dark?  "  said  he. 

"Edward,"  said  Ellen,  "tell  your 
grandfather  that  you  are  only  afraid  of 
the  darkness  which  is  made  up  of  pride, 
arrogance,  and  selfishness,  coldness  and 
greed.  Tell  him— 

My  grandfather  turned  without  a  word 
and  strode  off  to  his  room,  the  door  of 
which,  black  under  the  stairs,  seemed  like 
the  mouth  of  a  grizzly  bear's  cave. 

;<  Father's  sunshine  got  so  hot  he 
could  n't  bear  it,"  said  Uncle  Marston  to 
Uncle  Jefferson,  and  he  winked  at  Aunt 
Violet. 

"  Mr.  Man,"  said  Ellen,  "  suppose  we 
leave  these  cold,  sneering  relatives  of  ours 
and  go  home." 

Uncle  Jefferson  raised  his  voice  and 
called  to  his  father. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  Ellen  is  thinking 
of  taking  Edward's  child  home;  I  think 
she  would  best  not." 

"  I  forbid  it,"  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Nobody  will  steal  the  child,"  said  Aunt 
26 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

Violet,  sweetly,  with  a  glance  at  my 
swollen  face  and  shabby  clothes. 

"  Father,"  called  Ellen,  and  there  was 
a  choke  in  her  voice,  "  may  I  go  with  him 
as  far  as  the  woods?  " 

'  You  may,"  came  the  laconic  answer. 

And  now  we  are  out  of  that  house,  and 
we  have  gone  hand  in  hand  to  the  stone 
wall  at  the  edge  of  the  woods.  We  are 
both  crying,  and  we  are  kissing  each  other 
good-by,.  and  Ellen  is  telling  me  not  to 
be  afraid,  that  everything  will  come  right 
some  day.  And  now  I  am  facing  the  dark 
woods  and  I  am  sore  afraid,  with  that 
terrible,  bolting  fear  of  the  dark  which  is 
in  little  children.  And  now  I  have  turned 
and  waved  farewell  to  that  lovely  girl  lean 
ing  over  the  wall,  and  she  has  waved  to 
me.  I  will  not  let  her  know — cost  what  it 
may — that  I  am  afraid.  And  now  to  the 
left  are  approaching  dragons,  and  to  the 
right  lions  and  tigers  and  wild  men. 
About  and  about  is  darkness,  and  my  heart 
is  nearly  breaking  with  fear.  What  has 
happened  ?  The  fear  is  all  gone !  It  is  as  if 
27 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

day  had  suddenly  broken  and  flooded  the 
wild-wood  with  light.  My  darling  is 
singing  to  guide  me  on  my  way;  now 
the  voice  is  all  golden  and  clear  and 
loud  and  sweet,  and  now  it  falters  (why 
does  it  falter?),  and  now  it  rises  loud  and 
clear  again.  She  is  singing  that  air  I  love 
with  all  my  heart.  She  is  singing  "  La 
ci  darem  la  mano,"— "  Hand  in  Hand 
We  '11  Wander," — and  I  am  no  longer 
afraid.  ,  I  have  stumbled  through  the 
woods  to  the  other  side,  and  the  singing 
is  with  me  still.  She  told  me  to  go  straight 
home,  and  I  dare  not  linger  even  a  mo 
ment  to  hear  the  last  of  it.  It  is  grow 
ing  fainter — fainter;  I  can  hear  only  a 
note  now  and  then,  and  now  I  hear  the 
tide  rushing  under  the  bridge,  and  the 
faint  singing  becomes  one  with  it  and  is 
gone. 

The  door  of  Mr.  Blizzard's  public  house 
is  open;  an  oblong  of  light  strikes  from  it 
across  the  road.  I  am  passing  through  the 
light  now.  I  hear  voices,  and  as  I  scuttle 
past  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  my  father  and 
28 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

three  other  men  gesticulating  in  knotty 
and  loud  debate. 

My  father  does  not  get  up  for  breakfast. 
He  is  in  his  room,  and  one  dare  not  make 
a  noise  for  fear  of  troubling  his  poor  sick 
head. 


29 


Ill 


|HEN  my  father  heard  of  my 
visit  he  gave  me  a  distinguished 
thrashing  and  did  not  speak  to 
me  for  three  days.  But  there  must  have 
been  something  devilish  wrong  with  him, 
for  even  that  did  not  put  him  into  good 
humor.  I  think  it  must  have  been  the 
fourth  or  fifth  day  of  this  silence  that 
three  things  of  importance  happened.  To 
begin  with,  our  servant-girl  was  dis 
missed.  When  she  left  the  house  her 
face  was  redder  than  usual  (for,  oddly 
enough,  she  had  wept  at  saying  good-by 
to  me),  and  she  had  upon  her  head  a  hat 
that  looked  like  a  feather  duster  with  half 
the  feathers  broken  down.  She  climbed 
into  the  front  seat  of  the  livery-stable  trap 
(Mr.  Victory  himself  held  the  ribbons), 
and  snuffling  and  blowing  her  nose  like 
30 


ELLEN  AND  MR.  MAN 

twin  trumpets,  she  passed  down  Mosquito 
Row  and  out  of  this  narrative. 

The  second  thing  of  importance  to  hap 
pen  was  the  fact  of  Edward  Holinshed, 
Jr.,  breaking  his  silence. 

'  There  goes  Matilda,"  he  said,  and  ex 
ecuted  a  cheerful  shuffle  with  his  feet. 

"  Why  does  she  have  to  go,  father  ?  "  I 
asked. 

My  father  regarded  me  gravely  for 
some  moments,  and  then  he  asked  the 
strangest  question. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  church 
mice,  Edward  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No,  father,"  said  I.  And,  forsooth, 
how  should  I,  never  having  been  to 
church  ? 

"  Nothing  is  definitely  kno\vn  about 
church  mice,"  said  my  father,  "  except  that 
they  are  desperately  poor." 

"  I  did  not  know  that,"  I  said. 

My  father  took  me  by  the  hand  and  gave 
my  arm  a  sudden  playful  wrench  that 
brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes. 

"  Well,  don't  forget  it,"  he  said. 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

Then  he  put  on  his  brown  derby  hat 
and  strode  off  down  the  road. 

He  had  not  been  gone  ten  minutes  when 
the  most  important  thing  of  all  happened : 
the  postman,  in  his  little  back-tilting,  two- 
wheeled  cart,  stopped  before  the  door  and 
blew  his  whistle.  I  ran  out  and  gave  him 
good  morning.  He  returned  the  salute 
with  distinguished  consideration,  selected 
some  letters  from  a  large  bundle,  and 
handed  them  to  me. 

"  For  your  father,"  he  said. 
'  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  And  this  one,"  said  he,  holding  out 
a  square  white  envelop,  "  is  for  you" 

It  was  my  first  letter.  Who  could  have 
written  to  me?  The  postman  is  gone,  I 
am  sitting  on  the  front  steps  with  the  open 
letter  in  my  hands,  and  still  I  do  not  know 
from  whom  it  is  nor  what  it  is  about. 
There  is  no  one  between  two  seas  that 
reads  print  more  easily  than  I,  but  the 
written  word  is  Greek  to  me! 

I  knew  all  the  cooks  in  Mosquito  Row, 
and  nothing  would  have  been  easier  than 
32 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

to  run  to  one  of  them  and  get  the  letter 
read.  But  I  was  ashamed.  I  would  rather 
have  all  the  cooks  in  the  world  think  (if 
they  ever  gave  the  matter  a  thought)  that 
I  could  read  writing  than  know  the  con 
tents  of  my  all-important  letter.  Was  it 
not  joy  enough  in  the  world  to  have  a  let 
ter,  even  if  one  did  n't  know  what  it  was 
about  ?  One  thing  was  odd  about  that  let 
ter:  it  had  a  gilt  lion's  head  on  the  flap 
of  the  envelop  and  another  at  the  begin 
ning  of  the  sheet  inside,  and  much  did  I 
wonder  and  rejoice.  Happy  as  I  was  in 
its  mere  possession,  I  nevertheless  desired 
greatly  to  have  the  letter  read.  It  could 
not  be  satisfactorily  done  by  anybody  that 
I  was  ever  likely  to  see  again,  and  at  last 
it  occurred  to  me  that  a  total  stranger, 
preferably  a  tramp  (a  brotherhood  to 
which  I  was  used),  could  best  do  the  trick. 
And  so  I  went  and,  mustering  courage, 
waited  in  ambush  in  the  long  daisied  and 
buttercupped  grass  that  skirted  the  boule 
vard.  Usually  plenty  of  people  would 
have  passed,  but  on  this  particular  morn- 
3  33 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

ing  not  a  person  came  by,  to  whom  expo 
sure  of  ignorance  would  not  have  been 
an  everlasting  shame.  At  length  it  grew 
to  be  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  hunger 
compelled  me  home ;  but  there  was  no  lunch 
prepared  for  me  in  the  little  dining-room, 
-for  why?  '  There  goes  Matilda,"— and 
I  was  obliged— indeed,  this  first  time  it 
was  something  of  a  privilege — to  make 
free  in  the  pantry.  Butter  there  was  and 
bread  and  brown  sugar  for  the  filling  part, 
and  for  the  dessert  there  were  the  contents 
of  a  round,  flat  tin  box  into  which  I  had 
often  been  forbidden  to  pry.  But  now 
I  pried— "There  goes  Matilda "  —and 
found  that  the  box  was  divided  into  com 
partments  labeled,  in  gilt  letters,  cinna 
mon,  nutmeg,  cloves,  allspice,  etc.  — and 
was  as  empty  as  a  hat! 

Back  to  the  road,  and  the  shadows  are 
growing  long,  and  the  precious  letter  is  still 
unread.  And  the  stomach  is  so  full  of  bread 
and  butter  and  brown  sugar  that  it  is  not 
quite  happy.  But  now  something  is  rais 
ing  a  dust  a  quarter  of  a  mile  up  the  road 
34 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

toward  Bay  Chester:  there  is  a  beautiful 
yellow  cart  approaching,  drawn  by  a  smart 
calico  pony.  There  are  two  ladies  on  the 
seat;  they  are  both  in  white.  The  one  to 
the  right  sits  much  higher  than  the  one  to 
the  left  and  holds  the  reins  and  the  whip 
in  a  stylish  and  knowing  manner.  The 
lady  on  the  left  is  leaning  slightly  forward 
and  looking  to  the  right — toward  my  house 
—  as  if  she  earnestly  desired  to  see  a  partic 
ular  something  or  somebody.  Now  she  has 
caught  sight  of  me  in  the  long  grass  among 
the  buttercups  and  daisies.  She  makes  a 
gesture  with  her  white-gloved  hand,  and 
speaks  a  word  to  the  lady  that  sits  so  high. 
The  reins  are  drawn  in;  the  pony  halts 
with  protest  and  starts  to  striking  the 
boulevard  with  his  white  fore  foot.  Prob 
ably  he  admires  some  dog  and  is  trying  to 
learn  how  to  dig.  As  for  me,  I  am  in  dan 
ger  of  going  under  the  wheel  and  missing 
the  kiss  for  which  I  am  climbing.  I  do 
not  miss  it,  however,  and  stand  precari 
ously  balanced  on  the  little,  square,  rough- 
ened-iron  step  of  the  cart. 
35 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Man,"  said  my  aunt  Ellen, 
"  why  could  n't  you  come  to  the  party?  " 

I  looked  very  blank. 

"  Mrs.  Manners,"  said  my  aunt,  "  this 
is  my  nephew,  Mr.  Holinshed." 

I  reached  for  my  cap,  and  found  that  I 
was  bareheaded.  This  embarrassed  me 
tremendously. 

''  I  hope  you  are  very  well,  Mrs.  Man 
ners,"  I  said. 

The  beautiful  young  woman  showed  a 
beautiful  row  of  teeth  and  a  dimple. 

'  I  am  very  well,  thank  you,"  she  said, 
"  and  only  sorry  that  you  did  not  get  my 
note.  My  son  Peter  had  his  seventh 
birthday  to-day,  and  we  had  a  party  for 
him,  and  a  big  cake  with  candles  and  prizes 
in  it,  and  he  was  very  disappointed  that 
you  could  not  come." 

I  now  knew  the  contents  of  my  letter, 
and  began  a  blush  which  was  like  to  have 
consumed  me. 

"  Did  n't  you  get  the  note,  Mr.  Man?  " 
said  my  aunt  Ellen. 

The  tears  started  to  my  eyes,  and  I 
36 


ELLEN    AND    MR.    MAN 

looked  at  her  appealingly.  And  then  and 
there  I  had  my  first  example  of  the  triple 
intuition  which  is  said  to  be  woman's.  She 
understood.  The  whole  miserable  affair 
of  the  letter  and  the  non-ability  to  read 
writing  was  as  clear  in  her  mind  as  it  was 
in  mine.  And — God  bless  her! — it  hurt 
her  as  much  as  it  did  me,  and  I  saw  that 
she  was  not  going  to  give  me  away.  I  and 
my  best  friend  were  in  league  together 
against  exposure.  What  I  did  not  know 
was  that  Mrs.  Manners  had  also  under 
stood  and,  like  the  noble  woman  she  was, 
had  herself  joined  the  anti-exposure 
league. 

"  Suppose,"  she  said,  "  that  after  I  have 
taken  your  aunt  home  I  come  back  to 
your  house— that  is  it,  is  it  not?"  She 
pointed  with  her  whip,  and  I  said  that  it 
was—  "  and  carry  you  over  to  my  house 
for  tea,  and  then  you  can  spend  the  night, 
and  we  will  send  you  home  to-morrow?" 

I  hesitated,  not  because  I  did  not  intend 
to  accept  the  invitation,  but  because  I  did 
not  know  how  to  say  how  glad  I  was. 
37 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

'  You  can  leave  word  for  your  father, 
you  know,"  said  my  aunt. 

With  whom  should  I  leave  word?  It 
occurred  to  me  that  it  was  not  proper  that 
we  should  be  without  a  servant. 

'  Yes,  Aunt  Ellen,"  I  said,  and  blushed 
over  my  white  lie. 

'''  I  would  rather  you  left  out  the  aunt," 
said  my  aunt,  "  and  call  me  plain  Ellen." 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Manners,  show 
ing  her  teeth  and  her  dimple,  "  nobody 
could  possibly  call  you  plain  Ellen." 

:t  In  future,"  said  my  aunt,  with  height 
ened  color,  "  call  me  Ellen." 

I  blushed  over  the  happy  privilege. 

"And  now,  dear  Mr.  Man,"  she  said, 
"  good-by,"  and  she  kissed  me. 

"  Good-by,  Ellen,"  I  said,  and  hopped 
from  the  step  to  the  road. 

'  You  be  waiting  for  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Manners,  and  she  shook  her  whip  at  me 
playfully,  and  off  they  drove. 

How    I    scrubbed,    and    washed,    and 
smoothed  my  rebellious  hair,  now  dash 
ing  to  the  window  to  see  if  Mrs.  Manners 
38 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

was  in  sight,  now  dancing  and  singing 
for  joy !  Perhaps  I  waited  forty  minutes. 
It  seemed  a  month.  She  came.  I  rushed 
out  to  meet  her. 

'  But  where  are  your  things?  "  she  said. 

I  had  clean  forgotten  them,  or  rather 
I  had  never  thought  about  them  at  all. 

"Never  mind,"  she  said;  "jump  in— 
Peter  has  enough  for  you  both." 

We  crossed  the  causeway,  and  for  the 
second  time  in  my  life  I  was  in  strange 
lands.  It  was  to  the  left  we  turned  between 
square  stone  posts  into  a  long,  winding 
lane  with  thick  woods  on  each  side,  and  big 
single  trees,  tulips  and  hickories  and  gums, 
that  stood  forth  in  the  cropped  grass  that 
bordered  the  road,  like  officers  in  front  of 
opposing  armies.  Then  almost  at  the  end 
of  the  lane  we  turned  again  to  the  left,  be 
tween  two  round  posts  made  of  different- 
sized  round  stones  with  century-plants  on 
the  top,  and  entered  that  famous  old  es 
tate  of  the  Manners — Greenways.  There 
were  smart  stables  and  lawns  and  big 
trees  and  sheep  and  a  long  lovely  decline  to 
39 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

the  bay;  and  if  I  started  to  catalogue  all 
the  wonderful  things  that  are  as  familiar 
to  my  remembrance  as  the  face  of  friends, 
I  should  never  get  through. 

Peter  and  I  have  met.  We  are  about 
the  same  size,  only  he  is  a  beautiful  child 
and  I  am  not.  He  is  dressed  in  a  little  suit 
of  white  flannels  made  like  a  man's — long 
trousers,  brown  leather  belt,  little  buck 
skin  tennis-shoes,  smart,  white  with  pipe 
clay  (he  owns  little  trees  to  keep  them  in 
shape),  a  blue-and-white-striped  shirt  of 
cheviot,  a  blue  tie,  with  a  little  gold  dog- 
whip  pin  to  ornament  the  same  and  keep  it 
from  slipping.  His  sleek  brown  hair  is 
parted  on  the  side  like  a  grown  man's 
(mine  is  a  bang,  hair-colored,  and  rather 
mussy),  not  a  hair  is  out  of  place,  and  yet 
that  perfect  little  gentleman  is  as  embar 
rassed  as  I.  We  have  shaken  hands 
limply,  we  have  eyed  each  other.  We  have 
not  spoken. 

Presently  Peter  takes  from  his  pocket 
a  little  gold  trumpet  about  an  inch  long 
and  puts  it  into  my  hand. 
40 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

:'  If,"  says  he,  with  a  fine  blush,  "  you 
had  come  to  my  party,  you  would  have  got 
that  in  your  slice  of  the  cake  for  a  present 
to  keep." 

My  heart  is  sinking  to  think  what  has 
been  missed.  I  am  for  returning  the  trum 
pet;  but  I  am  not  allowed  to.  I  am  in 
doubt  as  to  whether  I  ought  to  kiss  Peter 
or  not. 

We  have  been  shouting  and  playing— 
Peter  and  his  little  brother  Charles,  a  sol 
emn  child  of  five,  and  I.  The  flannels  that 
were  so  immaculate  are  stained  with  the 
grass,  the  blue  necktie  is  awry.  We  have 
wrestled  and  run  and  shouted  and  chased 
the  sheep.  We  have  seen  the  beautiful 
guns  in  their  glass  cases  in  the  gun-room. 
We  have  had  supper  and  are  going  to  bed. 

I  am  to  sleep  in  Peter's  room.  It  has 
gay  paper:  scarlet  huntsmen  leaping 
fences,  ladies  in  high  hats  idem,  floppy- 
eared  dogs.  In  the  opposite  corners  of  the 
room  are  single  beds.  The  room  is  wide. 
We  cannot  sleep  so  far  apart ;  we  love  each 
other  too  much.  We  have  dragged  the 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

mattresses  from  the  beds  and  placed  them 
tangent  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  We 
have  painted  our  faces  and  bodies  with 
water-colors,  we  have  blackened  our  eye 
brows  and  made  us  mustachios  with  burnt 
cork,  we  have  danced  about  stark  naked, 
and  fought  with  towels  and  wet  sponges 
until  the  pitcher  is  upset.  We  are  quiet 
now,  for  we  are  aware  that  Charles's 
nurse  is  preparing  for  bed  in  the  next 
room.  We  are  caught  trying  to  peer  at 
her  through  the  keyhole.  We  are  threat 
ened  with  punishment  and  defiantly  lock 
our  doors  in  the  face  of  justice.  And  now 
I  am  attired  in  the  first  set  of  pajamas  I 
ever  saw,  and  Peter  is  wearing  the  second. 
We  are  in  our  beds,  but  the  gas  is  still  burn 
ing.  Peter  has  produced  from  somewhere 
a  little  paper  box  containing  ten  CUBEBS. 
We  have  smoked  them  all.  We  have  liked 
them  very  much. 


IV 


E  played  out  the  drama  among 
the  branches  of  a  big  oak-tree 
that  had  had  to  be  chopped 
down.  A  little  white  woolly  puppy  took 
the  part  of  Cora;  his  brother  was  Alice, 
Peter  was  Chingachcook,  Charles  was 
Uncas  (the  bounding  elk),  and  I  myself 
was  La  Longue  Carabine.  We  had  to  be 
other  people  from  time  to  time  as  the  plot 
unfolded :  now  Peter  would  be  the  swinish 
and  loathsome  Magua ;  now  Charles  would 
be  the  frisky  colt  (belonging  to  David) 
that  had  to  have  its  throat  cut;  and  once 
the  exigencies  of  the  situation  demanded 
that  Alice  should  be  Chingachcook  dis 
guised  as  a  beaver.  Also  the  felled  oak- 
tree  at  that  time  played  many  parts — a 
cave,  an  open  glade  at  the  top  of  a  wooded 
hill,  a  wood,  the  shores  of  a  lake,  the  camp 
of  the  Hurons,  the  camp  of  the  Delawares, 
43 


ELLEN    AND    MR.    MAN 

Fort  William  Henry,  and  the  graves  of 
Uncas  and  Cora. 

'  Do,  I  beseech  you,  gentle  savage,  leave 
us  to  our  atrocious  distress ;  go  swim  after 
the  others  and  save  your  gentle  person." 

Thus  spoke  the  beautiful,  woolly  (I 
mean  dark-haired)  Cora— though  she  got 
me  to  say  it  for  her.  And  Uncas,  one  eye 
upon  the  seething  caldron  of  waters  at  his 
feet,  the  other  upon  the  fair  speaker,  an 
swered  with  his  well-known  heroism: 

"Untas'll  'tay." 

And  now  Uncas,  invested  with  all 
the  dignity  of  the  nearly  extinct  Lenni- 
Lenape,  is  defying  Magua  in  choice  and 
dignified  language: 

"  Go  back  to  thy  traitor  people,  you 
black-hearted  Huron  dog,  and  when  yon 
der  sun  is  on  the  top  of  yonder  pine-tree, 
prepare  to  meet  thy  doom." 

'''  I  hear  a  crow !  "  taunts  Magua,  and 
slinks  away  into  the  forest. 

In  every  man's  life  there  must  have  been 

one   passage   that   was   such   fun   that   it 

44 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

is  almost  a  poignant  sorrow  to  recollect 
it.  I  loved  that  first  night  and-  morning  at 
Greenways  so  much  that  I  can  torture 
myself  with  thinking  about  it.  There  have 
been  happy  times;  there  will  be  happy 
times.  I  know  that.  These  it  is  pleasant 
to  look  back  upon  and  to  anticipate.  But 
the  happiest  time,  the  time  that  occurred 
only  once,  though  there  were  many  imi 
tations  of  it,  the  time  that  can  never  come 
again— that  is  the  time  that  it  hurts  to 
think  about ! 

It  was  not  long  before  I  knew  all  the 
children  in  the  neighborhood  and  was  con 
stantly  going  to  their  houses.  Indeed,  if 
this  had  not  been  so  I  should  have  starved 
to  death.  For  there  were  ten  whole  days 
when  my  father  did  not  come  home  at  all, 
and  having  devoured  whatever  was  eata 
ble  in  the  pantry,  I  sometimes  had  to  stay 
my  hunger  with  sassafras-leaves.  I  have 
never  quite  understood  why  the  neighbors 
did  not  interfere.  It  must  be  that  they 
were  in  real  ignorance  of  our  affairs.  I 
became  a  nomad,  wandering  from  house 
45 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

to  house  where  there  were  children,  spend 
ing  whole  days  and  sometimes  nights,  and 
—  God  help  me! — continually  advancing 
the  comforts  of  my  own  home.  I  involved 
myself  in  the  most  disgraceful  mesh  of 
lies,  for  it  seems  that  I  must  have  been 
proud  to  the  point  of  mania.  Allen  Hart 
had  from  his  father  a  toy  boat  with  sails 
that  you  could  pull  up  and  down,  and  two 
masts.  Indeed?  Well,  my  father  had 
promised  to  drop  into  the  store  the  very 
next  day  he  had  time  and  buy  me  a  bigger 
boat,  one  with  five  masts  and  brass  can 
nons.  Walter  Craig  had  been  presented 
on  his  ninth  birthday  with  a  Flobart  rifle. 
That  was  nothing.  My  father  was  think 
ing  of  buying  me  a  double-barreled  six- 
teen-guage  shot-gun.  Tom  Abberlee  was 
on  a  princely  allowance  of  fifty  cents  a 
week.  What !  That  anything  to  be  proud 
of?  Why,  that  very  morning  my  father 
(it  was  then  the  sixth  day  of  his  disap 
pearance)  had  given  me  a  silver  dollar. 
Where  is  it?  Why  (I  am  prepared  for 
this  emergency),  it  fell  through  a  hole  in 
46 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

my  pocket.  I  show  the  hole.  Am  I  not 
terribly  mad  at  having  lost  my  dollar?  I 
am  indifferent.  My  father  will  give  me 
another  whenever  he  is  asked.  How  I 
lied  to  keep  up  appearances,  and  how  des 
perately  near  to  being  caught  and  exposed 
I  came  at  times ! 

It  was  quite  de  rigueur  in  those  days  for 
the  child  that  had  money  to  treat  the  other 
children  at  Mr.  Scott's  grocery-store,  near 
the  Bartow  station.  You  could  have  your 
pick  of  many  things,  but  animal  crackers, 
elephants,  tigers,  lions,  and  rhinoceroses, 
and  shoe-laces  made  of  licorice  were  the 
most  choice.  You  went  at  the  animals 
like  a  discriminating  surgeon  with  a  knife. 
You  lopped  off  a  leg,  then  a  nose,  then 
another  leg,  until  what  had  been,  say,  a 
stately  elephant  was  nothing  but  a  bitten 
round  of  cracker-stuff.  Of  course  those 
crackers  tasted  in  all  parts  exactly  alike, 
and  yet  to  this  day,  if  I  came  across  one, 
I  could  eat  the  legs  and  head  with  con 
siderable  relish,  and  really  feel  snippy 
about  the  flavor  of  the  rest.  But  give  me 
47 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

shoe-laces!  They  were  always  my  fancy: 
shiny,  tough,  and  elastic.  You  took  one 
end  between  your  teeth,  let  go  with  your 
hands,  and  worked  it,  by  little  bites  (you 
had  to  guard  against  biting  too  hard), 
all  the  way  into  your  mouth,  then  (if  I 
may  so  express  it)  you  unbit  it  all  the 
way  out.  I  dare  say  this  was  a  very  nasty 
way  of  eating,  but,  by  heaven,  I  can  rec 
ommend  it !  It  would  n't  do  for  a  duchess 
at  a  court  dinner,  but  for  humble  people 
in  private  life — mm!  mm! 

Well,  I  had  been  treated  so  many  times, 
without  ever  having  treated  back  (for  all 
my  fine  talk  of  money),  that  children's 
souls  began  to  revolt  within  them.  And 
I  must  say  mine  did  too.  So  that  when 
Walter  Craig  (a  fat  and  selfish  child)  up 
and  said  point-blank  that  he  was  n't  going 
to  treat  me  any  more  (and  he  did  n't  rec 
ommend  it  to  others,  either)  unless  I 
treated  back,  matters  reached  a  crisis. 

Far  from  being  indignant  (how  could  I 
be? — my  soul  was  sick),  I  said,  with  tear 
ful  dignity,  that  the  reason  I  never  treated 
48 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

was  because  I  always  left  my  money  at 
home,  but  that  if  anybody  thought  I  had  n't 
any  money,  he  could  say  so,  and  be  a  dirty 
little  liar;  and  if  anybody  thought  I  was 
stingy,  well,  let  him  wait  where  he  was 
on  the  steps  of  Mr.  Scott's  store  until  I  had 
time  to  go  home  (about  three  quarters  of 
a  mile),  get  my  moneys,  and  come  back, 
and  then  if  any  dirty  little  liar  that  said 
I  had  no  money  and  thought  I  was  stingy 
would  eat  all  I  would  buy  for  him,  he 
would  burst. 

Walter  Craig  (that  fat  and  selfish 
child),  having  learned  the  expression  in 
his  father's  stable,  gave  back  that  he 
would  wait  for  me  until  a  certain  place 
froze  over. 

With  that  I  started  for  home.  My 
whole  being  was  at  sea  with  despair,  and 
there  was  a  buzzing  in  my  ears.  There 
was  no  way  that  I  could  think  of  in  which 
I  could  raise  as  much  as  a  dime.  Then 
I  felt  a  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  knew 
that  Peter  had  left  the  other  children 
to  come  with  me.  We  went  along  in 
49 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

silence,  and  I  began  to  evolve  a  plan  by 
which  I  might  get  rid  of  Peter,  and  try 
to  sell  to  Mr.  Arcularius  or  Mr.  Bliz 
zard  the  little  gold  trumpet  (marked  in 
little  block  letters  18  K.)  that  Peter  had 
given  me. 

"  You  need  n't  come  with  me,  Peter," 
I  said. 

"  Neddy,"  said  Peter,  "  I  thought  that 
perhaps  you  was  out  of  money,  and  that 
if  you  was  I  could  lend  you  some." 

Gratitude  to  the  point  of  agony  surged 
suddenly  within  me,  and  with  equal  sud 
denness  my  rebellious  pride  and  high 
stomach  had  refused  the  offer. 

;'  I  've  got  lots,"  I  said,  with  an  attempt 
to  feign  carelessness.  We  did  not  talk  very 
much  after  that,  for  I  was  faint  with  the 
superintending  calamity,  utterly  without 
invention,  and  possessed  only  of  a  vague 
desire  to  get  rid  of  Peter  and  die. 

We  had  turned  into  Mosquito  Row, 
when  I  heard  my  name  called,  and  turn 
ing,  beheld  the  postman  in  his  little 
cart. 

50 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

"  It  's  for  you,"  the  postman  said,  and 
waved  a  letter. 

I  took  it  and  thanked  him  like  one 
in  a  trance,  and  put  it  into  my  pocket. 
There  was  no  chord  within  me  that 
could  have  responded  to  anything  less 
pleasant  than  sudden  riches  or  sudden 
death. 

I  told  Peter  to  wait  in  the  hall  till  I  ran 
up-stairs  and  got  it.  I  locked  myself-  in 
my  room.  Something  might  yet  be  ef 
fected  with  the  gold  trumpet.  I  opened 
the  drawer  in  which  I  had  hidden  it,  and 
found  that  it  was  gone. 

I  laid  me  on  the  bed,  so  utterly  bowed 
down  with  shame  and  misery  that  I 
thought  I  should  die.  Some  one  tried  the 
handle  of  the  door,  and  then  knocked. 

"  Neddy— can't  you  find  it?" 

It  was  impossible  to  lie  successfully  any 
more.  I  knew  it,  and  yet  I  lied. 

"  Because,  if  you  can't  find  it,  I  can  lend 
you  some." 

'  Peter,"  I  wailed,  "  please  go  back  and 
tell  them  I  can't  come  because  I  'm  sick. 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

I  've  got  a  sick-headache,"  I  added,  to  for 
tify  my  invention. 

Peter  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  and 
when  he  did  his  voice  was  unexpectedly 
severe  and  censorious. 

'( I  guess  you  better  come  and  tell  them 
yourself,"  he  said. 

I  rose  from  the  bed  and  opened  the  door. 

'  Have  you  got  it  all  right?  "  said  Peter. 

"  It  's  here,"  I  said,  slapping  the  pocket 
into  which  I  had  put  the  letter. 

"  Let 's  see,"  said  Peter. 

I  showed  him  the  envelop. 

"  Is  n't  that  the  letter  you  just  got?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  it  's  the  one  I  keep  my  money 
in." 

I  had  formed  a  vague  notion  of  drop 
ping  the  envelop  into  the  water  as  we 
crossed  the  bridge,  and  setting  up  a  great 
wail  over  the  loss  of  its  contents.  Some 
how,  it  is  not  quite  pleasant  to  write  these 
things  about  one's  self — even  if  one  has 
changed  one's  ethics  upside  down,  which 
I  have  n't,  quite. 

Peter  pinched  the  envelop. 
52 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

"  It  's  paper  money,  is  n't  it?  "  he  said. 
"How  much?" 

"  I  forget,"  said  I. 

Half-way  over  the  bridge  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  the  distressing  accident  that 
was  to  deprive  me  of  means.  But  at  the 
brink  of  the  deed— I  balked.  It  was  too 
barefaced— too  obvious.  I  resolved  boldly 
to  face  the  other  children,  tear  open  the 
envelop  with  eclat,  and  finding  nothing  in 
it,  to  laugh,  call  myself  a  donkey,  and  say 
that  I  had  been  such  a  fool  as  to  fetch  the 
wrong  one. 

I  am  face  to  face  with  Walter  Craig 
(that  fat  and  selfish  child).  I  have  opened 
my  envelop,  and  taken  out  a  square  of 
paper  with  "  From  ELLEN "  on  it  in 
large  hand-printing.  I  have  also,  some 
what  to  everybody's  surprise,  but  more  es 
pecially  to  my  own,  produced  from  the 
afore-mentioned  envelop  a  ten-dollar  bill. 

I  have  little  comment  to  make  about  this 
episode  in  my  life  or  its  lesson,  which 
seems  to  read:  lie,  and  you  will  be  re 
warded.  It  has  occurred  to  me,  however, 
53 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

that  perhaps  God  disliked  Walter  Craig 
for  being  fat  and  selfish  more  than  he  did 
poor  little  me,  who  was  trying  to  hold  up 
my  head  and  my  father's  before  men,  and 
whose  only  means  of  doing  so  (or  the  only 
means  I  knew)  was  lies — lies — lies.  Any 
way,  I  lied  and  was  rewarded,  and  Wal 
ter  Craig  was  fat  and  selfish,  and  he  was 
punished. 

Walter  Craig  had  often  eaten  dried 
apricots,  but  he  had  never  eaten  enough. 
On  this  afternoon  he  did.  It  was  a  real 
pleasure  to  watch  them  go  into  him,  and 
to  hear  the  praises  which  he  showered 
upon  me.  He  ate  steadily  for  upward  of 
an  hour,  so  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  see. 
Then  a  great  thirst  began  to  consume  him, 
and  he  drank  four  glasses  of  water  and  a 
bottle  of  ginger-ale.  Then  he  began  to 
swell. 

At  first  he  complained  of  little  pains  in 
the  region  of  his  waistband— they  were 
just  stitches  in  the  side,  he  thought.  Then 
he  said  he  felt  sick  and  thought  he  would 
go  home.  His  face  was  white,  and  beads 
54 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

stood  upon  his  forehead.  Reaching  the 
stoop  of  the  store,  his  abdomen  suddenly 
turned  into  a  hard  bowl  of  agony,  and  ad 
vised  him  to  press  his  knees  against  his 
chin.  This  he  did.  Then  he  rolled, 
shrieked,  and  bellowed,  for  the  fear  of 
death  and  the  pains  of  hell  were  in  him. 

It  took  a  doctor  to  keep  Walter  Craig's 
selfish  life  in  his  fat  body,  and  when  at 
length  he  rose  from  his  bed  of  mortal 
agony  and  came  out  to  play,  we  sympa 
thetic  others  greeted  him  with  insulting 
cries  of: 

"Glutton!    Glutton!    La-la-la!" 


55 


V 


WAS  going  on  nine  when  my 
aunt  Ellen  reached  her  eigh 
teenth  birthday  and  was  for 
mally  introduced  to  society.  Late  in  the 
fall  my  grandfather  and  his  family  moved 
into  the  big  town  house  on  lower  Fifth 
Avenue  (it  had  been  extensively  im 
proved  for  Ellen's  benefit),  and  began 
a  magnificent  series  of"  entertainments, 
—dinners  and  balls  and  parties  of  all 
kinds,  the  more  expensive  the  better,— 
which  were  attended  eagerly  by  the 
choice  and  master  spirits  of  the  age. 
But  that  is  only  an  impression  derived 
from  the  daily  papers  which  Ellen  kept 
sending.  I  suppose,  really,  that  in  those 
days  society  was  no  more  choice  or  mas 
terly  than  it  is  to-day.  Between  the  ages 
of  eight  and  nine,  however,  I  conceived  it 

56 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

to  be  a  kind  of  midwinter  night's  dream 
of  diamonds  and  roses  and  wit.  Indeed, 
it  is  more  than  possible  that  Ellen  made  it 
seem  so  to  the  most  of  her  contemporaries. 
She  had  not  been  out  a  week  before  she 
was  reported  engaged  to  a  Mr.  Longfellow 
(no  relation  to  the  poet),  and,  oh,  the 
agony  I  endured,  and  the  spasms  of  jeal 
ousy  I  went  through!  She  had  not  been 
out  two  weeks  before  that  engagement 
was  denied  and  another  guessed  at.  That 
winter  she  was  engaged  nine  times,  and 
three  times  to  the  same  man— a  Mr.  Cra 
ven.  If  the  newspapers  drew  Mr.  Craven 
with  any  correctness,  I  knew  him  well.  He 
came  of  an  excellent  family  (of  Cravens), 
and  his  mother  was  a  Kerr.  He  had  very 
little  money,  a  fact  which  made  the  papers 
sad,  for  it  seemed  that  a  lavish  and  mag 
nificent  spender  was  lost  in  him;  but 
Ellen's  fortune  was  to  alleviate  that  fault 
and  supplement  the  tall,  dark  gentleman's 
well-known  wit  and  gallantry.  Mr.  Cra 
ven  led  all  the  germans;  he  gave  his  time 
and  patience  to  wealthy  hostesses  who 
57 


ELLEN  AND  MR.  MAN 

lacked  imagination.  He  appeared  in  a  new 
waistcoat,  and  a  hundred  orders  for  simi 
lar  garments  went  at  once  to  the  most 
fashionable  tailors.  He  wras  the  only  man 
in  New  York  who  knew  how  to  tie  a  cra 
vat  and  roll  an  umbrella.  He  carried  his 
handkerchief  in  his  left  sleeve,  and  had 
the  family  crest  embroidered  on  his  socks. 
He  was  the  Petronius  of  his  time;  also  he 
wrote  verses,  and  was  supposed  to  be  one 
of  the  best  croquet-players  in  the  world. 
How  lucky  Ellen  was  to  have  such  a  man 
in  tow — and  how  I  hated  him! 

I  took  also  a  great  interest  in  the 
much-heralded,  sunned,  timesed,  and  tri- 
buned  doings  of  the  Manners,  and  of 
other  county  people  whose  names  were 
known  to  me;  but  the  most  interesting 
social  career  was  that  of  a  man  whose 
faults  were  forgiven  because  of  his  vivac 
ity  and  wit,  who  was  enrolled  among  those 
present  at  every  function,  save  those  given 
by  my  grandfather,  and  whose  name  was 
also  mine.  It  seemed  that  my  father  was 
quite  the  lion;  it  seemed  that  he  was  bril- 
58 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

liant  and  distinguished  and  had  written  a 
book.  It  seemed  that  he  had  quarreled 
with  my  grandfather  on  purely  ethical 
grounds,  and,  noble  man,  had  forfeited 
a  vast  estate  in  consequence.  It  seemed 
that  he  had  malice  toward  none,  was  polite, 
witty,  urbane,  and  never  so  drunk  (he  was 
admittedly  fast)  as  to  disgrace  himself  or 
cause  a  tremor  to  the  youngest  maiden. 
It  seemed  that  he  was  generous  to  a  fault, 
the  last  to  borrow,  and  the  first  to  lend; 
that  his  dress  was  perfection,  his  face,  save 
when  lighted  by  that  brilliant  smile  of  his, 
affecting  and  sad.  It  seemed  that  the 
world  had  done  him  many  a  cruel  wrong 
and  been  forgiven  by  his  great  heart.  It 
seemed  also  that  he  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
become  one  with  Miss  Leslie  Carr,  the 
Buffalo  heiress. 

How  I  blushed  for  the  wrong  I  had  done 
my  father !  I  had  supposed  him  cruel  and 
unjust  (most  of  the  time),  disgraceful 
(some  of  the  time),  and  selfish  (all  of  the 
time).  I  had  been  wrong,  for  had  I  not 
seen  over  and  over  again  (and  in  print) 
59 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

that  he  was  none  of  these  things?  How 
proud  I  was  to  learn  that  at  an  interna 
tional  wedding  the  tactless  mother  of  the 
bride  had  been  so  imbecile  as  to  have  my 
father  and  my  grandfather  placed  in  the 
same  pew,  and  that  (the  observed  of  all  ob 
servers,  for  the  procession  had  not  started) 
my  grandfather  had  bowed  slightly  to  his 
son  and  had  received  the  cut  direct! 

Spring  came,  and  it  seemed  that  my  fa 
ther  was  usually  to  be  seen  driving  in  the 
park  with  Miss  Carr  (in  her  carriage). 
It  seemed  also  that  he  had  gotten  hold  of 
some  money  (this  was  direct  observation), 
for  we  had  now  a  maid-servant  and  a  cook, 
and  my  father  occasionally  had  people 
in  to  a  meal.  And  I  was  even  sent  to  New 
York  with  the  maid-servant  to  buy  a  new 
supply  of  clothes,  for  I  stood  in  great  need 
of  them.  We  got  off  the  elevated  at  Fifty- 
ninth  Street,  walked  across  to  Fifth  Ave 
nue,  and  rang  the  bell  of  a  big,  square 
house,  in  front  of  which  waited  a  victoria, 
two  men  on  the  box,  and  two  fine  bays.  A 
good-natured  young  woman  in  black  was 
in  the  hall  (the  door  had  been  opened  by  a 
60 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

man  in  livery),  and,  except  that  she  wore 
a  chain  of  diamonds,  one  might  have  mis 
taken  her  for  a  very  superior  kind  of  ser 
vant.  She  was  not  over-tall,  and  rather 
stocky,  with  a  fine  skin,  coloring,  and  even, 
white  teeth.  Her  voice  was  well  pitched, 
a  little  too  brisk,  and  though  she  pro 
nounced  words  differently  from  Ellen  (for 
instance),  it  was  not  unpleasant  to  hear. 

'  I  am  your  father's  friend,  Miss  Carr," 
she  said ;  "  and  he  has  asked  me  to  help 
you  buy  some  clothes." 

I  simply  blushed. 

"  My,  but  you  're  a  ragged  child !  "  she 
said.  '  I  guess  your  father  neglects  you 
—  don't  he?  "  She  said  it  as  if  it  was  the 
last  thing  she  believed. 

"  No,  he  don't,"  I  said  stoutly,  and  with 
some  temper. 

She  laughed. 

'  That  's  right,"  she  said ;  "  you  stand 
up  for  him.  I  do,"  she  said.  Then  she 
spoke  some  words  to  the  maid-servant 
who  had  brought  me,  took  me  by  the  hand, 
and  we  went  out  of  the  house.  To  my 
surprise,  she  made  me  hop  into  the  beauti- 
61 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

ful  victoria,  and  after  telling  the  coachman 
(who  touched  his  hat)  where  to  go,  she 
stepped  in  nimbly  herself,  and  we  started 
down  the  avenue. 

Miss  Carr  seemed  to  know  everybody  in 
New  York.  She  was  kept  busy  bowing 
and  waving  her  hand,  now  to  people  in 
carriages,  and  now  to  pedestrians.  Some 
times  she  would  not  be  content  with 
merely  bowing,  but  would  fling  remarks 
after  them.  For  instance,  to  a  rather  old 
girl  and  a  very  young  man  she  called: 
"When  's  it  goin'  to  be  announced?" 
and  roared  at  her  own  facetiousness. 

To  an  oldish  gentleman — a  perfect  beau 
he  was— she  waved  her  hand  and  shouted : 

"  Billy  Mclntosh,  come  and  lunch  with 
us  at  one-thirty." 

The  old  beau  nodded,  and  smiled  all  over. 

To  a  pale  young  woman,  driving  by  her 
self,  she  flung  a  kiss,  and  "  You  're  white 
as  a  sheet ;  take  a  rest." 

She  drew  smiles  from  everybody — even 
from  me.  She  was  so  brisk  and  good- 
natured  that  it  was  impossible  to  take  of- 
62 


ELLEN    AND   MR.  MAN 

fense,    even    when    she    said    impossible 
things. 

I  was  so  busy  observing  the  sights, 
buildings,  and  shops,  and  policemen  that 
I  had  not  much  mind  for  the  people  that 
passed.  Suddenly  Miss  Carr  gripped  my 
arm. 

"  There  comes  some  one  you  know,"  she 
said. 

"Where?" 

"  There— walking  with  the  tall  chap." 

The  gentleman  with  Ellen  was  over  six 
feet  high.  He  was  slender  and  very 
straight.  He  wore  a  high  hat  and  a  long 
frock-coat;  in  the  lapel  of  his  coat  were 
violets.  His  face  was  dark,  pale,  and  well 
cut.  He  had  a  close-cropped  mustache,  and 
a  whisp  of  a  yellow  bamboo  cane.  Miss 
Carr  caught  up  her  parasol  and  poked  the 
coachman  excitedly  between  the  shoulders. 

"  Stop  on  the  left,"  she  said. 

We  drew  up  by  the  curb,  and  Miss  Carr 
began  to  wave  to  my  aunt. 

Ellen  and  the  tall  gentleman    (hat  in 
hand)  came  and  stood  by  the  victoria. 
63 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

'  Want  you  to  see  my  new  mash,"  said 
Miss  Carr. 

I  thought  vaguely  that  she  had  in  all 
probability  caught  her  ringer  in  the  hinge 
of  a  door,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  so. 
I  expected  her  to  draw  off  her  glove  and 
show  a  blackened  finger— impelled  by  the 
same  mental  process  that  causes  little  boys 
to  show  their  cuts  and  scars. 

"  Are  you  on  your  way  to  the  Little 
Church  around  the  Corner  ?  "  said  the  tall 
gentleman. 

"  Well,  first,"  said  Miss  Carr,  "  we  are 
going  to  Trout's  Liliputian  Bazaar  to  buy 
our  trousseau." 

"  Are  you  sure,"  said  the  gentleman  to 
Miss  Carr,  "  that  you  are  not  throwing 
yourself  away?  " 

Miss  Carr  flushed  (I  thought  angrily), 
and  there  was  an  awkward  silence.  Ellen 
had  not  spoken.  Now  she  said  gravely, 
but  with  her  loveliest  smile: 

"  Leslie,  I  would  n't  want  to  see  Mr. 
Man  there  in  better  hands  than  yours.     I 
know  you  '11  always  be  good  to  him." 
64 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

"  I  could  just  squeeze  you  for  that  (how 
that  girl's  mind  ran  on  mashing  in  all 
forms!),  Ellen  Holinshed,"  said  Miss 
Carr,  "  and  you  bet  I  will  be  good  to  him." 
She  gave  me  a  tremendous  hug.  More 
mashing. 

"  Mr.  Man,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  want  you  to 
love  Miss  Carr  very  much  and  make  her 
love  you." 

"  I  will,  Ellen,"  I  said. 

They  all  laughed. 

"  Well,  don't  get  lost  in  the  park,"  said 
Miss  Carr.  The  tall  gentleman's  eyes  met 
Ellen's.  He  smiled  a  little  with  the  cor 
ners  of  his  mouth.  Ellen  did  not  smile 
back.  I  was  glad  of  that.  Then  every 
body  said  good-by.  And  Miss  Carr,  pok 
ing  the  coachman  with  her  parasol,  told 
him  to  drive  on. 

We  bought  the  greatest  quantity  of 
suits,  underclothes,  shirts,  stockings, 
shoes,  and  cravats  that  you  ever  saw.  In 
this  world,  of  all  mortal  boys  only  Peter 
Manners  had  more.  Miss  Carr  proved 
a  shrewd  manager.  She  knew  exactly 

65 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

what  things  ought  to  cost,  and  if  she 
thought  an  article  high,  would  at  once 
drive  to  another  store,  where  an  article  of 
equal  quality  could  be  bought  for  less 
money.  She  talked  familiarly  with  the 
clerks,  scolded  them,  flattered  them,  and 
made  the  most  taciturn  laugh. 

The  last  place  we  visited  was  a  jewel 
er's.  Miss  Carr  asked  to  see  gentlemen's 
dressing-cases,  and  was  shown  the  most 
wonderful  leather  bags  full  of  gold-topped 
bottles,  ivory-handled  brushes,  razors, 
gold  scissors,  and  things.  At  each  one  she 
turned  up  her  nose  and  said : 

"  Show  me  something  handsomer." 

'  This,"  said  the  clerk,  finally,  "  is  the 
handsomest  thing  of  the  kind  that  has  ever 
been  made  in  America." 

"  Sure  they  would  n't  tell  me  that  about 
some  other  bag  in  some  other  store?  "  said 
Miss  Carr. 

"  Perfectly  sure,"  said  the  clerk. 

"  All  right,"  said  Miss  Carr.  "  I  '11  take 
it.  I  want  you  to  make  up  a  handsome 
monogram  out  of  E.  H.,  Jr.,  and  mark  all 
66 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

the  pieces  with  it.  When  you  get  it  done, 
send  it  to  Mr.  Edward  Holinshed,  Jr."; 
and  she  gave  my  father's  address. 

The  clerk  wrote  down  the  address,  and 
we  left  the  store.  Miss  Carr  had  not  even 
asked  the  price  of  the  handsomest  bag  in 
America. 

"  Miss  Carr,"  I  said,  as  we  drove  up  the 
avenue,  "  thank  you  very  much  for  all 
you  've  bought  for  me,  and  please  will  you 
tell  me  the  gentleman's  name  with  Ellen?  " 

"  That  was  Mr.  Craven,"  said  Miss 
Carr,  "  the  man  we  think  she  's  going  to 
marry.  Why?" 

I  called  to  mind  Mr.  Craven's  own 
words. 

"  I  hope,"  said  I,  "  that  she  is  not  throw 
ing  herself  away,  Miss  Carr." 


67 


VI 


this  time  there  were  great 
changes  for  the  better  in  my  life 
in  regard  to  mere  physical  cir 
cumstances.  I  was  well  clothed  and  well 
fed.  It  was  no  longer  necessary  to  tell  lies 
about  my  home.  My  father  was  certainly 
in  funds,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  he 
was  not  backward  about  spending  them. 
But  for  all  that  I  was  not  happy.  In  the 
days  when  I  had  been  hungry,  lonely,  rag 
ged,  and  neglected,  my  soul  had  at  least 
been  serene.  But  now  there  were  things 
about  which  I  found  cause  to  worry.  I 
thought  that  Ellen  loved  Mr.  Craven  bet 
ter  (or  rather  differently)  than  she  did 
me;  and  as  for  Miss  Carr  (and  why  I 
knew  not,  for  she  had  been  most  kind), 
I  feared  her  a  little,  even  though  bearing 
gifts.  I  think  I  must  have  been  trembling 
68 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

for  the  old  independence  that  looked  so 
golden  now  that  I  was  beginning  to  be 
hedged  by  respectability. 

My  father  had  gone  into  strict  train 
ing,  and  it  had  a  fine  effect  upon  his 
temper.  He  was  up  daily  at  six,  walked 
and  ran  half  a  dozen  miles  before  break 
fast,  or  swam  about  the  bay  for  an  hour. 
He  played  a  great  deal  of  tennis  at  the 
country  club,  of  which  he  had  become 
a  member,  had  a  brother  of  Mr.  Arcu- 
larius  (an  ex-prize-fighter)  frequently 
at  the  house  to  box  with,  and  took  long, 
furious  paddles  in  a  little  wooden  canoe 
that  Miss  Carr  had  given  him.  He  drank 
nothing,  smoked  sparingly,  and  often 
made  me  his  companion.  Not  infre 
quently,  when  the  hot  weather  came,  we 
rose  at  daybreak  and  paddled,  in  our 
bathing-suits,  out  to  the  Stepping  Stone 
Light.  There,  my  father,  after  a  short 
rest,  would  leap  overboard  and  swim  lei 
surely  home,  while  I  followed  in  the  canoe. 
The  distance  was  something  like  three 
miles,  and  the  exertion  of  getting  that 
69 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

canoe  home  (until  I  got  used  to  it)  would 
nearly  kill  me.  My  father,  on  the  other 
hand,  would  swim  the  whole  distance  with 
out  apparent  fatigue  or  loss  of  breath. 
The  bay  on  those  mornings  was  the  calm 
est,  sweetest  sheet  of  water  ever  seen. 
There  was  never  a  sound  but  the  splashing 
of  my  paddle,  the  swish  of  my  father's 
swimming,  and  the  hungry  cawing  of  the 
early  crows.  Because  my  father  was  such 
a  redoubtable  swimmer,  I  soon  became  the 
envy  of  all  the  other  children  in  the  neigh 
borhood.  As  for  me,  I  could  not  swim. 
But  my  father  said  he  would  teach  me. 
This  made  me  very  proud. 

We  had  started  one  day  for  the  Stepping 
Stone  Light,  when  my  father  suddenly  re 
called  his  promise. 

"  Do  you  still  want  to  learn  to  swim?  " 
he  asked  suddenly,  and  stopped  paddling. 
The  canoe  still  maintained  a  rippling  ad 
vance  over  the  calm  water.  We  were  half 
a  mile  from  shore. 

"  Yes,  dad,"  said  I. 

The  wish  was  father  to  the  act.  My 
70 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

father  reached  forward,  picked  me  up  by 
the  neck  in  one  of  his  powerful  hands,  and 
flung  me  overboard.  Of  course  my  mouth 
was  open,  and  as  I  went  down  struggling, 
I  took  in  a  lot  of  brine.  I  rose  to  the  sur 
face  and  saw  the  early  morning  around  me 
in  a  ring.  I  heard  the  cawing  of  the  early 
crows.  The  canoe  was  at  some  distance; 
my  father  was  standing  up  in  it,  and  had 
an  interested  expression  on  his  face. 
Again  the  world  disappeared  to  me,  sink 
ing.  I  had  less  a  feeling  of  fear  because 
I  was  going  to  drown  than  of  shame  be 
cause  I  could  not  swim.  I  came  to  the 
surface  for  the  second  time. 

"  Strike  out— swim!  "  called  my  father. 

My  struggles  redoubled,  and  I  sank. 
Rising  for  the  third  time,  I  became  aware 
suddenly  that  I  was  not  going  to  sink 
again.  There  was  no  method  that  I  know 
of  in  my  mad  struggles,  but  they  kept  my 
head  stanchly  above  water. 

"  Come  back  to  the  canoe,"  commanded 
my  father. 

I  headed  for  it,  and  somehow  or  other 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

paddled  myself  alongside.  My  father 
leaned  over  and  drew  me  out  of  the  water. 
I  think  from  that  moment  he  had  a  cer 
tain  weakness  for  me.  But  there  was  no 
praise  or  compliment  in  what  he  said  at 
the  time. 

"  Never,"  said  my  father,  "  say  that  you 
can't  do  a  thing  until  you  have  tried  it." 

It  was  from  the  Cotters'  float  that  we 
boarded  Miss  Carr's  steam-launch,  that 
was  to  take  us  up  to  Larchmont  for  a  visit. 
You,  child,  shall  have  many  pleasures 
in  this  world,  but  perhaps  it  may  never  be 
your  lot  to  ride  in  a  mahogany  boat  with 
a  brass  smoke-stack,  and  your  own  father 
at  the  wheel,  two  sailormen  in  white  for 
him  to  give  orders  to,  and  a  flag  at  stem 
and  stern.  Only  one  other  thing  can  give 
you  the  pride  of  life  and  the  full  accom 
plishment  of  desire;  that  is,  to  ride  in  an 
engine  and  be  allowed  to  open  the  throttle 
thereof  with  your  own  hand. 


72 


VII 

ISS  CARR  and  her  father  were 
coming  to  dine.  They  were  to 
run  down  from  Larchmont  in 
the  launch,  and  go  home  by  moonlight. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  an  engagement 
existed  between  Miss  Carr  and  my  father, 
for  it  had  been  announced  formally  at  a 
large  garden-party,  and  the  wedding  was 
set  for  the  early  autumn.  The  morning 
of  the  dinner  day  my  father  went  to  town. 
At  leaving  he  asked  me  if  there  was  any 
thing  in  the  world  I  wanted. 

"  A  little  sail-boat,"  I  said. 

"What  else?" 

"  A  little  steam-boat." 

"What  else?" 

"  A  little  row-boat." 

"What  else?" 

"  A  little  gun." 

73 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

'  That 's  about  all  I  can  carry,"  said  my 

father.     And  in  the  late  afternoon  I  was 

possessed   of   these   treasures.      Half    an 

our  before  dinner  they  looked  as  if  they 

.iad  been  played  with  a  long  time.     We 

sighted  the  Carrs'  launch,  and  went  down 

to  Mr.  Cotter's  float  to  help  her  make  a 

landing.       My    father    was    grave    and 

thoughtful. 

"  Neddy,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  that  I 
am  going  to  marry  Miss  Carr?  " 

"  Yes,  dad." 

"Are  you  glad?" 

"  Yes,  dad." 

The  launch  was  drawing  near. 

"  Remember,  Neddy,"  said  my  father, 
but  not  unkindly,  "  that  little  children 
should  be  seen  and  not  heard.  Speak  when 
you  are  spoken  to." 

Miss  Carr  and  my  father  were  waving 
to  each  other.  Mr.  Carr  made  the  landing 
in  great  shape. 

Mr.  Carr  was  an  elderly  gray  man  with 
gold  teeth.  His  financial  career  had  been 
something  of  a  miracle,  for  he  was  said 
74 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

to  have  taken  the  bread  and  butter  from 
a  hundred  thousand  families  and  turned  it 
into  cash.  He  was  urbane  and  jaunty. 

:'  Had  a  nice  run,  Holinshed,"  he  said; 
"  new  packing  worked  fine— no  waste." 

Miss  Carr  gave  my  father  both  hands 
and  sprang— none  too  lightly— to  the 
float.  She  kissed  me,  and  called  me  hallo- 
old-chap. 

What  were  my  toys  doing  in  the  front 
hall?  I  had  put  them  carefully  away. 

"  Some  of  my  boy's  gear,"  said  my  fa 
ther,  lightly,  as  if  I  had  been  possessed 
of  many  similar  things.  "  Go  and  hide 
them,  Neddy." 

When  I  came  down-stairs  the  party 
were  at  dinner.  And  what  a  merry  little 
dinner  it  was — after  the  champagne  had 
gone  around  twice !  The  three  grown-ups 
all  talked  and  laughed  at  once,  as  if  they 
had  known  each  other  for  years,  and  only 
my  father's  big  talk,  and  his  guests'  swal 
lowing  of  it,  proved  the  contrary.  It 
seems  that  my  father  was  thinking  seri 
ously  of  being  Minister  to  England,  and 
75 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

of  introducing  Miss  Carr  and  her  fa 
ther  to  the  Pope,  whom  he  knew  quite 
well,  and  with  whom  he  had  often 
lunched.  I  was  to  be  sent  to  St.  Paul's 
School  and  Harvard.  And  Mr.  Carr, 
pawning  his  gold  teeth  if  necessary,  was 
to  foot  the  bills.  But  nothing  was  said 
about  this. 

I  had  been  given  a  whole  glass  of  cham 
pagne  and  was  quite  groggy.  It  seemed 
then  perfectly  natural  that  a  woman  in 
deep  mourning,  her  face  plowed  with 
tears,  should  enter  the  dining-room  lean 
ing  on  my  grandfather's  arm.  I  remem 
ber  thinking  that  probably  the  sorrowful 
woman  was  a  relative,  and  I  half  expected 
that  my  father  (such  was  his  hospitable 
mood)  would  offer  her  a  glass  of  wine. 
He  did  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  pushed 
back  his  chair  and  rose  to  his  feet.  His 
face  was  white  as  linen.  I  think  my 
grandfather  felt  sorry  for  him. 

"  The  woman,"  said  my  grandfather, 
in  his  deep,  arrogant  voice,  "  would  come. 
I  could  not  detain  her  by  force,  and 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

thought  best  to  accompany  her.  She  can 
—or  rather  does — speak  for  herself." 

My  father  made  a  tremendous  effort  to 
bluff. 

"  Miss  Carr,"  he  said,  "  this  lady  wishes 
to  speak  to  me— will  you  excuse  us  for  a 
few  moments?  " 

The  woman  went  out  with  my  father 
(who  closed  the  door  after  him),  and  be 
gan  to  sob  directly  she  was  in  the  hall. 

"  Mr.  Carr,"  said  my  grandfather,  fix 
ing  a  contemptuous  glance  upon  the  finan 
cier,  "  I  am  led  to  understand  that  your 
daughter  is  about  to  marry  my  son.  He  's 
a  bad  lot." 

I  burst  into  tears  at  this  utter  condem 
nation  of  my  male  parent. 

"  Don't  do  that !  "  said  my  grandfather, 
sharply. 

Mr.  Carr  finished  his  glass  of  wine. 

"  We  don't  judge  hastily,"  said  he. 

"Don't   you?"    said   my   grandfather, 

and  that  was  all  he  said.     It  caused  the 

pompous  financier  to  shut  up  like  a  clam. 

But  his  daughter  rose  to  her   feet  and 

77 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

faced  my  grandfather.      Her   eyes   were 
glittering. 

"  Mr.  Holinshed,"  she  said,  "  your  son 
has  been  straight  as  a  die  since  I  've 
known  him.  I  believe  in  him,  and  I  want 
you  to  be  mighty  careful  what  you  say 
next." 

Miss  Carr  looked  almost  beautiful  as 
she  spoke. 

'  I   am  very  sorry  for  you,"   said  my 
grandfather. 

"  He  will  explain  away  all  this  melo 
drama  when  he  comes  back,"  said  Miss 
Carr. 

"  Men  of  the  world—  "  began  Mr.  Carr, 
impressively. 

My  grandfather  wheeled  on  him  like  a 
great  cat. 

"  What  did  you  say,  sir?  "  he  said. 

Mr.  Carr  looked  much  flustered,  and 
was  on  the  verge  of  blustering. 

"  I  said,"  he  said  loudly,  "  that  men  of 
the  world—" 

"  Precisely,  sir !  "  thundered  my  grand 
father. 

78 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

Mr.  Carr  subsided,  and  presently  reach 
ing  in  a  furtive  manner,  he  possessed  him 
self  of  his  daughter's  glass  of  wine,  which 
was  untasted,  and  conveyed  it  so  shak- 
ingly  to  his  lips  that  some  of  it  was  spilled. 

"  Miss  Carr,"  said  my  grandfather,  and 
in  a  voice  beautiful  with  gentleness,  "  you 
cannot  marry  my  son.  I  am  very  sorry 
for  you." 

The  wailing  of  the  woman  in  the  hall 
rose  anew. 

My  grandfather  put  out  his  hand  as  if 
he  meant  to  lay  it  on  Miss  Carr's  head. 
There  was  something  truly  pathetic  in  the 
gently  meant  and  uncompleted  act. 


79 


VIII 

S  a  result  of  the  episode  at  the 
end  of  the  last  chapter,  Miss 
Carr  was  saved  from  a  great 
deal  of  subsequent  misery,  my  father 
broke  training,  and  I  spent  an  exciting 
month  trying  to  keep  out  of  sight.  I  will 
not  go  into  the  details  of  my  troubles  at 
this  time,  but  they  were  awful.  I  was 
afraid  of  my  own  shadow,  and  at  mo 
ments  feared  for  my  life.  Yet  there  was 
nobody  that  I  could  go  to,  for  Ellen  was 
at  Bar  Harbor,  and  death  by  the  rod 
seemed  preferable  to  exposing  the  family 
shame  to  any  one  else.  My  mother's  fam 
ily,  I  knew,  lived  in  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
if  it  were  in  any  way  possible  I  would 
run  away  and  go  to  them.  It  was  the  pic- 
80 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

ture  of  my  maternal  grandfather,  which 
hung  in  the  spare  room,  that  persuaded 
me  in  this  decision.  Richard  Chestleton, 
if  his  picture  spoke  truth,  had  the  face 
of  a  white-mustached  and  white-goateed 
angel. 

I  got  out  the  map  and  looked  up 
Charleston,  hoping  that  it  was  not  far. 
But  it  was.  I  asked  the  station-master 
what  it  would  cost  to  go  to  Charleston. 
But  I  was  astute  about  it,  for  first  I 
asked  him  (and  put  it  on  the  grounds  of 
mere  curiosity)  how  far  Chicago  was 
and  how  much  it  cost  to  get  there,  Bos 
ton,  Buffalo,  and  other  cities.  I  men 
tioned  Charleston  third  from  the  last, 
and  quite  casually.  The  station-master 
named  an  impossible  sum,  and  I  turned 
away  gasping. 

At  that  moment  the  up  train  whistled 
for  Bartow,  and  I  ran  out  on  the  plat 
form  to  see  it  come  in.  I  have  ever 
loved  to  look  at  a  train.  Three  laborers 
with  tin  cans  and  a  dapper  gray  gentle 
man  got  off.  The  gray  gentleman  seemed 

6  8l 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

one  used  to  command,  and  at  the  same 
time  gentle.  I  knew  this  because  he 
addressed  a  remark  to  the  empty  air,  and 
the  station-master  and  the  baggage-mas 
ter,  leaving  their  work  and  touching  their 
caps,  hastened  up  to  answer  and  afford 
him  any  service  in  their  power.  That 
proved  the  gentleman's  habit  of  com 
mand,  and  the  absent-minded  way  in 
which  he  began  to  pat  the  head  of  a 
strange  child  (my  head)  proved  his  habit 
of  gentleness. 

"  I  am  expecting  Mr.  Holinshed's  car 
riage,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  and  I  don't 
see  it." 

;'  It  is  n't  here,  sir,"  said  the  station- 
master. 

:'  It  's  likely  to  be  any  minute,"  said  the 
baggage-master. 

"  I  could  get  a  trap  for  you  in  ten  min 
utes,"  said  the  station-master. 

"  Never  mind — never  mind,"   said  the 
gentleman,  all  the  while  patting  my  head, 
and  he  looked  at  his  watch.     "  How  long 
a  walk  is  it?  "  he  asked. 
82 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

"  Ten  minutes,"  said  the  baggage-mas 
ter. 

"Ten  minutes,"  said  the  gentleman; 
"  I  think  I  can  manage  it.  Perhaps  this 
little  man  will  be  willing  to  show  me  the 
way." 

"That  's  Mr.  Holinshed's  grandson," 
said  the  station-master. 

"  Poor  Edward's  boy,"  I  heard  the  gen 
tleman  murmur ;  and  aloud  he  said,  "  Will 
you  show  me  the  way  to  your  grand 
father's?" 

I  turned  crimson;  and  I  thought  that  a 
flash  of  amusement  crossed  the  gentle 
man's  face.  I  was  thinking  of  how  it 
would  be  possible  to  do  the  gentleman  a 
favor,  and  at  the  same  time  avoid  getting 
too  near  my  grandfather's. 

The  gentleman  did  not  allow  me  to 
solve  the  problem.  He  simply  took  a  firm 
hold  of  my  hand,  and  I  had  to  go. 

''  Where  is  your  father  ?  "  asked  the 
gentleman  presently. 

"  At  home,"  said  I. 

"What  is  he  doing?" 
83 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said;  "  he  had  n't  got 
up  when  I  left." 

The  gentleman  chuckled. 

"Where    do   you    go    to    school?"    he 
asked. 

"  I  don't  go,"  said  I. 

"Want  to?"  said  he. 

"  No,"  said  I. 

He  chuckled  again. 

"  Your  grandfather  's  a  very  fine  man," 
he  said. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  I  suppose  you  go  there  a  great  deal?  " 

I     stammered,     and     the     gentleman 
chuckled. 

"  I  wish  I  were  your  age,"  said  the  gen 
tleman.  "  How  hlessed  to  be  a  boy  again !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  What  do  you  do  with  yourself?  " 

"  Anything  I  like,"  said  I. 

The  gentleman  sighed. 

"  Who  is  your  best  friend?  "  he  asked. 

"  Peter  Manners,"  said  I. 

'(  Wrhere  does  he  live  ?  " 

"  Across  the  bay." 
84 


ELLEN   AND   MR.   MAN 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

"  At  the  head  of  the  bay." 

"  How  many  servants  have  you?  " 

"  Two." 

So  he  ran  on,  and  by  the  time  we  were 
in  sight  of  my  grandfather's  place,  he 
knew  a  surprising,  if  superficial,  amount 
about  the  neighborhood. 

"  That  's  where  my  grandfather  lives," 
said  I,  pointing;  "  all  you  have  to  do  is  to 
follow  the  road  now." 

"  So  I  see— so  I  see,"  said  the  gentle 
man  ;  but  he  did  not  let  go  my  hand.  Nay, 
his  grip  tightened. 

'  You  just  go  right  on,"  said  I,  wrig 
gling  to  escape. 

But  the  gentleman  would  not  let  go. 
Indeed,  he  seemed  nervous  himself.  At 
the  gate  I  was  in  tears,  at  the  front  door 
frozen  with  terror.  The  gentleman  rang 
the  bell  with  his  free  hand,  and  pushing 
open  the  upper  half  of  the  door,  looked 
eagerly  into  the  darkish  hall.  Of  the 
maid  who  answered  his  ring,  he  asked 
if  Mr.  Holinshed  was  in,  and  when  she 
85 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

said  that  he  was  not,  seemed  relieved.  But 
the  maid  went  on  to  explain  that  Mr.  Hol- 
inshed  was  in  the  garden. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  gentleman,  and  wiped 
the  sweat  from  his  brow.  The  gentle 
man  had  become  as  nervous  as  I  was. 

"  Take  me  to  the  garden,"  he  said  to 
me;  but  half-way  down  the  steps  he 
halted  and  sat  down.  He  remained  for 
some  moments  sitting  and  thinking,  and 
holding  my  hand. 

"  I  thought  I  could  do  it,"  he  said;  "  but 
I  can't.  I  never  thought  to  lose  my  nerve 
like  this,  and  it  's  sure  to  succeed,  sure 
to  succeed." 

To  our  mortal  terror,  we  beheld  my 
grandfather  coming  up  from  the  garden. 
The  gentleman  of  the  commanding  and 
gentle  heart  made  a  noise  that  sounded 
like  a  gulp,  rose  suddenly  to  his  feet,  and, 
with  one  final  galvanic  clutch  of  my  hand, 
made  off  as  if  people  had  started  to  shoot 
at  him.  I  was  thrown  violently  to  my 
face  in  the  gravel  road  and  lay  wriggling 
and  half  stunned.  It  was  my  grandfa- 
86 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

ther  who  picked  me  up  and  set  me  back  on 
the  step. 

"  He  took  hold  of  my  hand  and  made 
me  come,"  I  said. 

'  Why  did  he  make  you  come  ?  "  said 
my  grandfather. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  I,  all  of  a  tremble. 
'  I  don't  know  even  why  he  had  to  come 
and  go  away  so  quick." 

"  I  despise  a  coward,"  said  my  grand 
father. 

I  fell  to  shaking  anew. 

'  That  man,"  said  my  grandfather, 
"  came  to  ask  me  for  money.  .  .  .  Do  you 
know  the  difference  between  a  beggar, 
a  maniac,  and  an  inventor?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  I. 

'  There  is  n't  any  difference,"  said  my 
grandfather. 

He  seemed  to  be  in  a  good  humor  with 
himself,  and  I  thought  to  escape. 

"  I  think  I  'd  better  go  now,"  I  said. 

''  Like  some  candy  to  eat  on  the  way?  " 
asked  my  grandfather.  He  took  from 
his  pocket  a  white  paper  bag  containing 
8? 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

sugar  candy  in  sticks,  ornamented  with 
bright-colored  spirals,  like  so  many  little 
barber-poles.  My  grandfather  gave  me 
the  whole  bag.  I  stammered  my  thanks. 

'''  Like  to  see  something  to  make  you 
laugh  ?  "  said  he. 

'  Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  for  I  was  plucking 
up  heart  under  this  kind  treatment. 

'  Then  watch  carefully  what  comes  out 
of  my  hat,"  said  he.  I  fixed  round  eyes 
upon  the  huge  felt  hat  that  pressed  upon 
his  heavy  white  locks.  He  raised  the  hat 
a  little,  and  to  my  horror  a  garter-snake 
wriggled  out  from  under  the  brim,  tum 
bled  to  the  ground,  and  wriggled  madly 
off.  Two  others  followed.  My  grand 
father  replaced  his  hat. 

'  When  you  have  a  headache,  Johnny," 
he  said,  "  catch  a  few  garter-snakes  and 
wear  'em  in  your  hat.  Then  the  headache 
will  go  away." 

"  Is  yours  all  gone  now?  "  I  asked  with 
intense  curiosity. 

My  grandfather  nodded. 

:<  Like  to  see  a  rabbit?  "  he  asked  sud 
denly;  and  he  took  a  very  little  one  from 
88 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

his  left-hand  coat  pocket.  The  rabbit  did 
not  seem  even  embarrassed,  and  squatted 
comfortably  on  his  knee.  From  the  same 
pocket  he  presently  drew  a  fox-terrier 
puppy,  and  from  the  pocket  that  had  con 
tained  the  candy  a  tiny  yellow  kitten. 
Then  steadying  the  rabbit,  he  removed 
to  the  lowest  step  and  began  to  play  most 
engagingly  with  his  pets.  Tiring  of  that, 
he  put  them  back  in  his  pockets  and  rose 
to  his  feet. 

4  Whose  little  boy  are  you,  Johnny?" 
he  asked. 

Now  I  began  to  understand  why  I  had 
been  so  kindly  used.  The  old  gentleman 
did  not  know  that  I  was  blood  of  his  blood, 
bone  of  his  bone.  I  laid  the  candy,  un 
touched,  on  the  top  step. 

"  I  'm  Nedward  Holinshed,"  I  said  in 
a  scared  voice,  and  looked  appealingly 
into  the  big  face.  But  he  had  turned 
away  and  was  going  into  the  house.  He 
shut  the  door  behind  him. 

Ten   days   later   my   grandfather's   name 

was  in  every  paper  in  the  United  States, 

89 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

for  his  chiefest  and  dearest  friend  had 
ruined  him.  Apoplexy  struck  him  a  thun 
dering  blow  and  left  him  in  a  dying  condi 
tion.  On  his  death-bed  he  forgave  my 
father,  and  died  with  me  in  the  hollow 
of  his  big  arm. 

By  his  will  he  left  enough  money  to  his 
two  daughters  to  produce  for  each  of 
them  an  income  of  fifteen  hundred  dol 
lars  a  year.  The  rest  of  his  property  was 
to  be  divided  equally  among  his  children, 
including  my  father.  But  his  children 
would  not  have  complained  if  he  had  left 
the  rest  of  his  property  to  a  foreign  mis 
sion.  There  was  no  rest. 

With  his  own  hands,  and  just  before  he 
died,  he  gave  me  the  big  gold  watch  that 
he  had  always  carried.  This  my  father 
subsequently  pawned. 


90 


IX 


LWAYS  the  soul  of  honor,  my 
grandfather's  allowing  himself 
to  be  ruined  was  a  quixotic  act. 
That,  I  suppose,  coupled  with  his  mag 
nificent  habit  of  hospitality,  accounted 
for  the  large  crowd  which  followed  his 
body  to  its  last  resting-place  in  the  grave 
yard  of  old  St.  Peter's. 

Ellen  and  I  spent  all  the  morning  of  the 
funeral  gathering  roses  in  my  grand 
father's  garden  to  lay  in  his  grave.  It 
was  a  very  hot,  blue  morning,  filled  with 
the  humming  of  bees  and  the  dry  sounds 
of  summer.  Ellen's  heavy  black  dress 
looked  very  much  out  of  place,  and  got 
dusty  about  the  bottom.  When  we  re 
turned  to  the  house,  I  got  a  whisk-broom 
and,  going  down  on  my  knees,  brushed  it 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

all  very  carefully  for  her.  The  whole 
brunt  of  the  funeral  fell  on  my  aunt  Ellen 
and  my  father.  My  two  uncles  and  my 
aunt  Violet,  it  seemed,  were  prostrate 
with  grief,  and  I  was  very  sorry  for  them 
until  my  father  explained  that  it  was  rage 
against  the  deceased  for  leaving  them 
nearly  penniless,  and  not  anguish  over  his 
death.  My  father,  who  was  not  in  the 
least  disappointed,  as  he  had  never  ex 
pected  any  legacy,  spoke  with  real  pride  of 
the  man  for  whom  we  mourned.  He  also 
spoke  very  interestingly  of  parents  in  gen 
eral,  saying  that  the  love  of  their  children 
for  them  was  in  the  exact  ratio  to  the 
amount  of  their  property.  And  he  said 
that  it  would  be  a  happier  world  if  the  law 
compelled  parents  who  had  reached  fifty 
years  of  age  to  be  placed  on  the  same  al 
lowances  which  they  had  given  their  chil 
dren  up  to  that  period. 

There  was  a  cold  lunch  and  sherry  wine 
in  the  dining-room  for  the  family  and  pall 
bearers,   and  a  more  lugubrious   meal   I 
have  never  attended.     My  uncles  and  my 
92 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

aunt  Violet,  looking  like  three  human 
daggers,  ate  the  food  as  if  it  were  poison, 
and  drank  the  sherry  as  if  it  were  vitriol. 
Ellen  and  I  sat  together  and  occasionally 
whispered  things  to  each  other.  My  fa 
ther,  on  the  other  hand,  assumed  the  head 
of  the  table,  and  talked  a  loud  and  cheerful 
monologue.  He  had  his  family  where  he 
wanted  them,  as  the  saying  is,  and  he 
made  them  writhe. 

"  Of  course,"  said  my  father,  "  a  man 
who  has  been  brought  up  in  the  lap  of  lux 
ury  can  never  without  capital  hope  to  be 
a  great  success  in  the  business  world ;  but 
for  every  man  who  is  willing  to  put  his 
shoulder  to  the  wheel  there  is  a  compe 
tence.  Jefferson,  my  lad,  you  are  eating 
nothing." 

Uncle  Jefferson  looked  poisonously  at 
my  father. 

"  I  don't  know,"  mused  my  father,  "  but 
extreme  distaste  for  food  will  be  advanta 
geous  to  a  man  who  is  going  to  clerking. 
.  .  .  Marston,  let  bygones  be  bygones; 
.  .  .  the  pleasure  of  a  glass  of  wine  with 
93 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

you.  .  .  .  Violet,  a  girl  "  (she  was  fifty,  if  a 
day)  "  of  your  aristocratic  looks  should 
wear  her  bonnet  straight.  Yours  has  a 
bacchanalian  list  to  port.  .  .  .  Shrewsbury  " 
(this  to  an  aged  cousin),  "  a  slice  of  the 
breast?  .  .  .  Fanny"  (to  the  aged  cou 
sin's  sister),  "  I  hope  I  see  you  well.  .  .  . 
Edward  "  (this  to  me),  "  reach  your  cou 
sin  the  sherry.  .  .  ." 

It  was  getting  late;  we  finished  our 
luncheon,  and  went  into  the  drawing-room 
for  a  last  look  at  my  grandfather.  He 
looked  like  the  "  Moses  "  of  Michelangelo, 
only  his  cheeks  were  rosy  and  his  mouth 
smiled.  .  .  .  The  coffin-lid  was  screwed 
down,  and  the  pall-bearers  (all  old  men) 
lifted  the  coffin  staggeringly  and  carried 
it  out  to  the  hearse.  There  were  two  doors 
to  pass,  and  two  serious  jams  resulted. 
The  aged  pall-bearers  directed  one  an 
other  in  the  voices  of  locusts,  and  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  their  tall  hats. 

St.    Peter's    was    crush-full    and    smelled 

heavily  of  flowers.     As  the  coffin  entered 

94 


ELLEN   AND   MR.   MAN 

the  church,  the  organ  burst  into  a  tremen 
dous  march,  which  I  have  since  learned 
was  Beethoven's  funeral  march  of  a  hero. 
It  made  you  step  out  and  feel  noble  all 
over.  The  people  in  the  pews  turned  their 
heads  to  see  the  coffin  and  the  old  men  go 
by.  Some  of  the  old  men  were  very  cele 
brated,  and  so  old  that  it  was  thought 
they  might  never  appear  in  public  again. 
There  were  twelve  of  them,  white-haired, 
bowed,  and  shuffling. 

I  had  never  been  in  a  church  before,  but 
I  had  no  curiosity  to  look  about  me.  My 
eyes  were  all  for  the  big  coffin  that  swayed 
ahead,  and  my  ears  for  the  big  march  that 
rumbled  under  the  roof.  The  coffin  was 
set  down  on  draped  sawhorses  at  the  foot 
of  the  steps  leading  to  the  altar.  In 
stantly  the  music  stopped,  there  was  a 
thrilling  hush  all  over  the  church,  and  a 
man  nearly  as  big  as  my  grandfather, 
dressed  in  opaque  black  silk  and  sparkling 
linen,  stepped  forward,  a  little  open  book 
in  his  hands,  and  looked  down  on  the  cof 
fin.  Then  looking  up  and,  as  it  seemed, 
95 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

gathering  and  holding  every  eye  in  the 
church,  he  spoke  in  a  quick,  loud  voice: 

"  '  I  am  the  resurrection,  and  the  life, 
saith  the  Lord:  he  that  believeth  in  me, 
though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live :  and 
whosoever  liveth  and  believeth  in  me  shall 
never  die/  ' 

It  was  so  tremendous,  so  beautiful,  and 
so  sudden  that  I  gasped.  The  eyes  of  all 
the  old  pall-bearers  clung  to  the  great 
bishop  and  drained  comfort  from  him. 
He  made  life  seem  so  little,  and  life  in 
death  so  beautiful  and  everlasting.  I  did 
not  understand  the  half  of  what  he  said; 
but  whole  sentences — swinging  cadences 
of  wonderful  words — have  been  with  me 
ever  since. 

:i  I  am  the  resurrection,  and  the  life, 
saith  the  Lord:  he  that  believeth  in  me, 
though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live." 

They  told  me  that  Ellen  was  in  the  gar 
den.  It  was  dark,  and  she  had  changed 
her  heavy  black  for  a  thin  white  sum 
mer  gown.  She  was  coming  down  the 
96 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

garden  path  toward  the  gap  in  the  hedge, 
and  a  tall  gentleman  was  walking  beside 
her.  There  was  a  quizzical— may  I  say 
a  struggling?— smile  on  Ellen's  lips,  and 
Mr.  Craven,  for  it  was  he,  was  trying  not 
to  look  like  a  sneak.  Before  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  advance  or  retreat,  Ellen 
called  to  me,  and  I  ran  to  her.  She  gath 
ered  me  to  her  with  her  left  arm  and  held 
me  tight.  She  gave  her  right  hand  to  Mr. 
Craven.  He  held  it  a  minute,  seemed 
about  to  speak,  dropped  it,  turned  sud 
denly  away,  and  left  us.  In  the  silence  we 
walked  about  the  darkening  garden. 
Somehow  I  knew  that  Ellen  was  suffer 
ing.  Suddenly  she  said: 

"  Mr.  Man,  do  you  love  me  true?  " 
I  threw  both  my  arms  about  her  waist. 
:'  Why  do  you  love  me,  Mr.  Man?  " 
:<  Because,"    I    said,    "  you— you— you 
are— you  are— you." 

Again  we  walked  in  silence.    Presently 
Ellen  said: 

'  You  know,  Mr.  Man,  that  everything 
has  been  changed  by  my  father's  death; 
97 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

there  's  very  little  money,  and  we  Ve  all 
been  brought  up  to  depend  on  money,  so 
the  future  looks  difficult.  But  I  'm  not  a 
bit  frightened,  and  I  'm  going  to  hold  up 
my  head  just  as  high  as  I  can ;  and  do  you 
know  what  I  'm  going  to  do,  Mr.  Man?  " 

"  No,  Ellen." 

"  Listen,  then.  I  've  got  enough  money 
for  two  people  to  live  on  in  Europe;  and 
if  I  can  find  somebody  to  go  with  me  and 
take  care  of  me  [that 's  the  way  she  put  it] , 
I  'm  going  abroad,  and  I  'm  going  to  work 
so  hard  that,  some  day,  people  will  pay  to 
hear  me  sing." 

I  expected  to  hear  next  that  she  had 
selected  Mr.  Craven  to  go  with  her  and 
take  care  of  her;  but  no. 

"  Mr.  Man,"  said  Ellen,  "  if  your  father 
will  let  you,  will  you  go  with  me  and  take 
care  of  me?  " 

"Oh,  Ellen!" 

Ellen  sat  down  at  the  piano,  and  I 
nestled  close  to  her  side.  Then  she  lifted 
her  glorious  voice  and  sang  the  loveliest 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

song  of  all:  "  La  ci  darem  la  mano  " 
"  Hand  in  Hand  We  '11  Wander." 

Aunt  Violet  thrust  her  red,  swollen  face 
savagely  in  at  the  door. 

"  Ellen,  how  can  you!  " 


99 


X 


'Y  father  seeing  no  objection  to 
Ellen's  proposal,  and,  indeed, 
rejoicing  at  the  idea  of  get 
ting  rid  of  me,  I  was  thrown  into  a 
state  of  pleasurable  and  frantic  excite 
ment,  that  lasted  without  abatement  (ex 
cept  for  two  days)  until  we  had  been  in 
Europe  a  month.  I  was  going  abroad; 
I  was  going  to  see  the  Queen  (possibly  the 
little  mouse  under  her  chair),  the  Tower 
of  London,  and  Westminster  Abbey.  I 
repeated  these  facts  to  myself;  I  confided 
them  with  a  sense  of  infinite  superiority 
to  my  friends ;  I  accosted  strangers  on  the 
boulevard  and  endeavored  to  elate  and 
astonish  them  with  my  great  news.  I 
kept  up  this  sort  of  thing  all  summer  and 
well  into  the  autumn— indeed,  until  the 
100 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

9th  of  October,  which  was  the  date  of 
our  sailing.  I  must  have  bored  others 
very  much,  but  I  did  n't  bore  myself  in 
the  least;  and  that,  by  the  way,  is  an  ex 
cellent  rule  for  happiness.  Impatient  as  I 
was  to  go,  the  seventh  and  eighth  days  of 
October  were  passed  in  a  state  bordering 
on  dejection,  for  it  suddenly  came  home  to 
me  that  I  had  been  happy  all  my  life  (I  had 
forgotten  all  miseries),  and  that  I  was 
leaving  my  friends  and  the  places  of  my 
happiness. 

October  that  year,  as  always  in  that 
county,  was  glorious  and  golden.  One 
day  that  seemed  proud  to  be  a  day  followed 
another.  The  trees  began  to  be  eaten  up 
with  their  own  flames  of  color,  and  the 
bay  was  like  a  sapphire  set  in  a  halo.  In 
the  late  afternoon,  ships  bound  up  the 
Sound  came  statelily  out  from  behind  Fort 
Schuyler,  their  sails  bright  pink  in  the 
sun,  and  vanished  mysteriously  behind 
City  Island.  The  big  Sound  steamers 
rushed  over  the  same  course  and  drove 
little  waves  to  the  beach,  that  was  miles 
101 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

away.  The  nights  came  on  slowly  and 
peacefully,  and  were  not  black,  but  blue, 
with  scarfs  of  stars  thrown  across  them. 
The  mornings  stirred  your  soul  like  the 
sounding  of  horns. 

I  must  have  loved  the  county  always, 
but  it  was  not  until  I  came  to  leave  it  for 
the  first  time  that  I  knew  this.  The  places 
where  I  had  played  or  been  happy  or  un 
happy  took  on  new  meanings  and  new 
faces,  as  of  so  many  friends.  It  did  not 
seem  to  me  as  if  I  could  bear  to  leave  them. 
At  times  I  was  full  of  unreasoning  self- 
pity  and  had  a  lump  in  my  throat.  Nor 
shall  I  forget  the  feelings  of  loneliness 
that  I  suffered  when  the  train  had  rushed 
us  out  of  the  familiar  into  the  compara 
tively  unknown. 

Peter  came  in  his  little  pony-cart  to  the 
station  to  see  me  off.  Allen  Hart  came, 
Tom  Abberlee,  Cambell,  all  the  good 
old  friends,  and  Walter  Craig  (that  fat 
and  selfish  child).  They  all  came,  bless 
them!  bearing  gifts — all  except  Walter 
Craig.  He  brought  nothing  but  his  good 
102 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

wishes.  And  I  hope  he  will  be  a  rich  man 
some  day. 

Allen  Hart  gave  me  a  physical  geog 
raphy—it  was  well  that  I  should  be  pre 
pared  for  the  phenomena  of  nature;  Tom 
Abberlee,  an  air-gun  (broken)— it  was 
well  that  I  should  be  prepared  to  deal 
with  the  French;  Peter,  two  pounds  of 
candied  cherries  (red  and  white)  and  a 
postage-stamp  album;  and  Walter  Craig, 
as  I  have  recorded,  his  good  wishes.  Was 
I  puffed  up  to  have  such  friends,  munifi 
cent  before  men?  And  did  I  blush  when 
I  whispered  Allen  Hart  to  give  my  love 
to  his  sister,  who  was  only  six  years  older 
than  I  ? 

The  Ituria  was  a  ship  of  seven  thou 
sand  tons  "  burden,"  as  I  had  taken  pains 
to  inform  myself.  I  thought  it  a  fine 
weight  for  a  boat.  She  was  scheduled  to 
run  from  Sandy  Hook  to  Liverpool  in 
seven  days;  and  she  was  seven  times  as 
dirty  and  evil-smelling  as  any  ship  I  was 
ever  on.  Besides  this,  she  had  a  way  of 
rolling  that  was  all  her  own.  But  what 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

cared  I  ?  I  was  the  hero  in  a  nautical  book 
such  as  I  had  read.  I  went  through  the 
regular  experiences.  I  went  with  Ellen 
into  the  main  saloon  for  dinner  (I  think 
they  had  supper  in  those  days).  The  floor 
rose  and  pressed  my  feet.  Who  were  we 
that  we  should  be  put  at  the  captain's  ta 
ble,  with  Ellen  at  his  right  hand  ?  A  great 
elation  seized  me  and  an  indescribable  ap 
petite.  I  wanted  to  eat,  not  because  of  hun 
ger  exactly,  but  because  I  wanted  to.  The 
sea  got  out  from  under  the  Ituria,  and 
the  saloon  descended  like  an  elevator  for 
about  three  flights.  Some  instinct  told 
me  to  get  up  and  go.  I  said  that  I  had 
forgotten  something.  I  rose,  and  as 
suming  dignity,  walked  slowly  and  halt 
ingly  across  the  shifting  floor  toward  the 
distant  door.  Nearing  it  somewhat,  I  was 
obliged  to  run,  in  order  that  I  might  not 
be  a  shame  to  myself  before  all  men. 

But  in  half  an  hour  I  was  right  as  a 
trivet,  nor  have  I  since  been  sick  of  the 
sea.    Going  on  deck  in  the  morning,  there 
104 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

was  no  land  in  sight,  only  a  great  fresh 
ness,  and  a  splendid  turmoil  of  green 
waves.  Sensation  two,  of  the  nautical 
hero.  I  became  friends  with  the  other 
children,  and  we  explored  the  ship  and 
played,  and  were  inseparable.  Off  the 
Banks  we  did  behold  the  distant  spouting 
of  whales,  and  a  far-off  whiteness  that 
was  a  berg  of  the  polar  ice.  Each  day 
was  as  long  and  varied  as  the  heart  could 
desire,  and  grand  it  was  to  lie  in  the  rock 
ing  berth  and  hear  the  waves  strike  like 
molten  lead  against  the  port. 

As  for  Ellen,  she  held  a  kind  of  seven- 
day  court  at  which  the  heart  of  every  man 
aboard  was  a  courtier.  She  parceled  out 
walks  and  divided  them,  and  slipped  in 
extras  as  a  belle  does  at  a  ball.  The  night 
before  landing,  a  concert  was  given  for 
the  benefit  of  the  crew,  and  among  others 
Ellen  played  and  sang.  By  the  grace  of 
God  her  performance  came  the  last  of  all, 
so  that  one  was  able  to  forget  the  others. 
It  was  like  the  swallow  of  pure  water  one 
105 


ELLEN   AND    MR-  MAN 

gets  after  taking  a  quinine  pill  that  will 
not  go  down  alone.  Following  the  concert 
was  a  dance,  for  the  sea  had  got  very 
smooth,  and  Ellen  has  since  confessed  that 
between  the  hours  of  ten  and  midnight 
she  received  seven  proposals  of  marriage. 


1 06 


XI 

QUOTE  from  Ellen's  journal : 
Friday,    Paris.      Behold,    we 

have  been  with  the  great  teacher 
of  singing.  We  called  five  times  before  he 
would  see  us,  because  he  is  said  to  hate 
American  voices.  Finally  I  suppose  our 
persistence  wore  him  out,  for  he  had  to  let 
us  in.  His  work-room  is  a  large,  square 
place  with  tall  windows,  three  pianos,  bare 
floors,  and  hideous  things  on  the  mantel 
piece.  The  creature  was  sitting  at  a  table, 
with  his  back  to  us.  After  we  had  looked 
at  his  back  for  some  time,  he  said, 
"  Well?  "  and  turned  round  in  a  la-de-da 
manner.  I  suppose  he  must  have  liked  our 
looks,  because  the  moment  he  saw  us  his 
whole  manner  changed,  and  he  hopped  to 
his  little  chisel-shaped  feet  and  bowed  and 
scraped. 

107 


ELLEN   AND   MR.   MAN 

"  Good  God,  mademoiselle,"  he  cried, 
"  is  it  you  that  I  have  kept  in  waiting?  I 
wish  I  may  do  a  million  years  of  penance 
in  purgatory !  " 

"Never  mind,"  I  said;  "I  '11  forgive 
you  if  you  '11  teach  me  to  sing  and  not 
make  it  too  horribly  much." 

"  You  wish  to  sing?  "  he  said.  "  I  will 
be  proud  to  give  you  lessons."  We  ex 
changed  pleasant  remarks  for  some  time, 
and  then  he  sat  down  at  the  piano  and 
tried  my  voice.  I  was  horribly  frightened, 
but  I  did  my  very  best  because  it  meant  so 
much  to  me.  After  he  had  tested  my  voice 
thoroughly  he  swung  slowly  round  on  his 
stool,  and  looked  at  me  with  disappoint 
ment  written  in  large  letters  all  over  his 
face.  I  nearly  cried,  and  presently  he  did. 

"  I  cannot  give  you  lessons,"  he  said. 

I  tried  to  be  cheerful. 

"  Is  it  as  bad  as  that?  "  I  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  it  is  as  bad  as  that." 

'  You  think  I  can  never  learn  to  sing?  " 

Then  he  stood  up  on  his  little  feet  and 
began  to  shout  and  stamp. 
1 08 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

"  Sing!  "  he  cried.  "  Sing!  Holy  Mo 
ther  of  Angels,  you  can  sing!  But  I  can 
not  teach  you,  since  you  have  nothing  to 
learn.  It  is  for  that  I  weep!  " 

I  could  have  kissed  him,  but  I  did  n't. 
When  he  had  calmed  down,  he  asked  who 
my  teachers  had  been;  and  after  I  had  told 
him,  he  wrote  their  names  down  in  a  book. 
Then  he  made  me  the  prettiest  little  speech. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "  once  or 
twice  in  a  century  a  human  throat  is  made 
like  the  throat  of  a  nightingale.  Such  a 
throat  had  Lisette,  the  Gipsy,  who  died  in 
giving  birth  to  a  child,  before  even  she 
had  sung  to  the  world,  and  such  a  throat 
have  you.  My  ear,  which  has  been  tuned 
by  the  greatest  voices  of  the  age,  can  pick 
no  flaw  in  your  singing.  I  would  rather 
listen  to  your  notes  than  be  given  pearls. 
You  have  only  to  go  where  Frenchmen 
are  gathered  together  and  sing  the  littlest 
song  to  find  their  gold,  their  watches,  their 
rings,  and  their  hearts  thrown  at  your 
feet.  Will  you  not  sit  at  the  piano  now 
and  sing  a  little  song  to  this  old  professor, 
109 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

who  is  at  once  happy  and  unhappy  in  that 
he  can  teach  you  nothing?  " 

I  sat  down,  of  course,  as  I  always  do 
when  anybody  asks  me,  and  sang  him  a 
song.  I  sang  him  the  "  Suwanee  River  " 
just  as  well  as  I  could,  and  he  began  to  cry 
again. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "  there  is  so 
little  that  I  can  say."  He  wiped  his  eyes 
with  a  handkerchief  that  had  so  much 
cologne  on  it  that  it  must  have  made  them 
sting.  Then  he  talked  very  seriously  to 
me,  and  wisely  I  thought.  He  told  me 
to  wait  a  year  or  two  before  going  on  the 
stage.  He  said  that  if  I  insisted  he  would 
get  me  a  position  at  once,  but  that  he 
would  advise  me  to  wait.  He  told  me  that, 
to  begin  with,  I  had  not  come  to  my  full 
strength,  and  that,  to  end  with,  my  French 
was  execrable. 

:t  Were  I  you,"  he  said,  "  I  should  spend 
a  year  in  Tours,  where  the  best  French  is 
spoken,  and  a  year  in  Italy.  I  should  prac 
tise  with  all  my  heart,  but  not  too  much; 
I  should  learn  many  roles,  and  finally  ap- 
1 10 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

pear  to  the  world  at  the  very  best  that  was 
possible  to  me.  You  are  too  young,"  he 
said,—"  too  young." 

Then  he  said  : 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  pray  that  you  will  al 
ways  consider  me  your  friend,  and  that  the 
goodness  which  is  so  evident  in  your  beau 
tiful  face  has  given  me  nearly  as  much 
pleasure  as  your  voice.  If  [and  the  lit 
tle  fellow  blushed  very  nicely]  you  have 
not  money  enough  to  do  what  I  recom 
mend,  I  will  gladly  be  your  banker." 

Mr.  Man  and  I  had  to  stop  on  the  stairs 
to  give  each  other  a  hug,  because  we  were 
so  happy.  Mr.  Man  seemed  to  understand 
everything  wre  said  (though  he  does  n't 
know  any  French  except  the  word  for 
"cream-puff")  and  laughed  for  joy. 

Monday,,  Tours,  Hotel  de  L'Univers. 
Mr.  Man  is  the  dearest  little  man,  and 
when  I  don't  want  to  cry  over  him  I  want 
to  laugh.  Whenever  the  waiter  helps  him 
to  anything,  he  bows  his  sweetest  and  says, 
"  Mercy !  Mercy !  "  which  he  conceives 
to  be  the  French  for  "thanks."  This 
in 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

hotel  is  kept  by  two  sisters  as  pretty  as 
possible,  and  ever  so  kind.  They  are  do 
ing  everything  they  can  to  help  me  find 
a  nice  little  house  cheap, — because  I  am 
going  to  keep  house  now  that  I  have  the 
chance, — and  it  is  perfectly  charming  to 
hear  them  wheedle  and  scold  the  various 
landlords.  The  hotel  has  a  gravel  court 
yard,  a  fountain  in  the  middle,  and  quanti 
ties  of  tame  white  doves.  They  may  be 
pigeons,  but  I  think  they  are  doves.  I 
have  already  engaged  a  tutor.  He  is  a 
wee  little  man  with  a  large  bulbous  head 
and  the  tiniest  feet,  which  he  keeps  pressed 
close  to  each  other,  in  order,  I  think,  to 
give  the  impression  that  he  has  at  least 
one  foot  of  normal  size.  Everybody  says 
that  his  French  is  very  beautiful  and  that 
he  is  a  great  scholar.  Here  French  is 
talked  slowly  and  largely,  like  English, 
and  there  is  no  clipping  of  quantities.  Mr. 
Man— I  don't  know  why,  except  that  it  is 
a  lovely  mouse-colored  old  building— has 
gone  crazy  mad  about  the  cathedral,  and 
makes  me  take  him  there  once  a  day.  He 

I  12 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

is  also  quite  mad  about  the  towers  of 
1'Horloge  and  Charlemagne.  Ever  since 
the  Tower  of  London,  I  think  towers  have 
completely  fascinated  him,  and  he  desires 
nothing  so  much  as  to  have  one  of  his  own 
—a  very  old  one  with  broken  winding 
stairs  and  a  candle-snuffer  roof.  He 
draws  pictures  of  towers  constantly,  and 
conducts  in  his  heart  of  hearts  most  fu 
rious  sieges  and  defenses  of  the  same.  He 
cannot  wholly  dismiss  his  beloved  Cooper 
Indians,  but  he  improves  them  with  suits 
of  medieval  armor  and  double-handed 
swords. 

Tuesday.  We  have  a  house.  It  is  No. 
10  Rue  des  Guetteries,  or  Rue  des  Guet- 
teries  dix,  as  they  say  here— a  quiet  little 
street  running  for  a  block  at  right  angles 
from  the  big  boulevard,  and  losing  itself  in 
front  of  a  cobbler's  shop.  It  is  a  wee  bit  of  a 
place,  but  ample  for  us  two  and  a  servant. 
It  has  a  little  oblong  back  yard  surrounded 
by  an  ivy-covered  wall,  floored  with 
broken  flints,  and  containing  two  trees 
large  enough,  so  Mr.  Man  proceeded  to 
8  113 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

demonstrate,  to  climb.  The  back  of  the 
yard  is  a  woodshed,  and  from  the  roof 
of  it  we  can  see  all  our  neighbors'  back 
yards,  how  big  a  Saturday  wash  they  have, 
and  how  many  dogs  and  cats. 

We  got  the  house  in  quite  a  pleasant  way. 
M.  Carriere,  who  is  my  tutor,  brought 
some  friends  of  his,  M.  and  Mme.  Dupin 
(French  Protestants),  to  call  upon  us. 
They  are  very  charming  people  and  have 
nine  children,  as  clever  as  black-and-tan 
terriers,  who  also  called  (the  youngest  in 
her  mother's  arms),  and  they  took  us  for 
a  walk  up  the  hill  across  the  river,  and 
for  tea  to  the  home  of  some  Americans 
named  Teach,  who  have  made  Tours  their 
home.  Their  little  chateau  is  called  La 
Chanterie ;  it  has  a  Roman  foundation  and 
an  eighteenth-century  roof.  The  grounds 
are  lovely  and  full  of  late  roses.  They 
have  a  daughter,  a  girl  of  fourteen,  and 
a  niece  (pretty  as  a  picture)  named 
Blanche,  who  lives  with  them.  She  is 
seven,  and  very  shy.  Mrs.  Teach  is  the 
fourth  woman,  since  our  arrival,  who  has 
114 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

taken  it  upon  herself  to  be  a  mother  to  us. 
The  two  sisters  at  the  hotel  were  the  first, 
then  Mme.  Dupin,  and  last  Mrs.  Teach. 
One  could  not  ask  to  be  better  mothered. 
Mrs.  Teach,  hearing  that  we  wanted  a 
house,  at  once  got  out  a  picture  of  Rue 
des  Guetteries  dix;  told  us  where  it  was, 
and  how  many  rooms  it  had ;  also  for  how 
much  we  could  have  it.  It  seems  that  it 
belongs  to  her.  I  won't  say  how  much 
rent  she  wanted,  but  when  the  bargain 
was  closed,  I  felt  like  a  robber  and  said  so. 

"  My  dear,"  said  she,  "  if  you  would 
promise  to  let  us  see  you  every  single  soli 
tary  day,  I  would  let  you  have  the  house 
for  nothing." 

It  was  warm  enough  to  have  tea  on  the 
veranda,  and  it  was  very  pretty  to  see  all 
the  children  streaming  about  the  lawn, 
and,  even  if  most  of  them  are  French, 
playing  like  real  children  at  home.  While 
we  were  at  tea,  three  little  English  boys 
named  Knollys  came  in.  The  eldest  is 
fifteen,  the  second  twelve,  and  the  young 
est  Mr.  Man's  age.  Their  names  are  Har- 
"5 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

old,  Walter,  and  Maurice.  Walter  is  the 
most  charming  little  boy  I  ever  saw,  ex 
cepting,  of  course,  Mr.  Man.1  He  has  a 
round  head  covered  with  curly  (it  does  n't 
curl  too  much)  brown  hair,  a  charming, 
ingenuous  face,  with  many  freckles  across 
the  nose,  blue  eyes,  and  beautiful  white 
teeth.  I  could  wish  that  he  were  a  great 
deal  older  and  very  rich  and  in  love  with 
me.  The  three  wore  blue  sailor  suits,  had 
good-conduct  stripes  below  the  imperial 
crown  on  their  left  sleeves,  and  belong, 
if  their  hat-bands  tell  truth,  to  her  Maj 
esty's  ship  Thunderer.  They  are  the 
manliest,  politest  little  boys,  with  beautiful 
English  voices  and  bright-red  cheeks. 
Mrs.  Teach  got  them  to  sing  for  us;  they 
did  so  at  once  very  naturally  and  without 
embarrassment,  standing  in  line.2  They 
sang  first  (and  really  delightfully)  a  song 
about  some  odious  creature  who  bungled 

1  This  is  a  statement  on  the  part  of  Ellen  Ilolinshed  of  ador 
able  loyalty,  and  is  perfectly  ridiculous.     I  was  a  brat.  — E.  H. 

2  I  insisted  on  having  sailor  suits  just  like  the  Knollys  boys', 
and  when  they  were  asked  to  sing  would  stand  in  line  with  them, 
opening  and  shutting  my  mouth  at  the  right  time,  but  making 
no  sound,  for  I  never  could  sing  a  note.     I  loved  to  be  in  the 
running,  it  seems.  — E.  II. 

116 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

with  a  knife,  acquiring  thus  a  chest  com 
plaint  which  lasted  all  its  life.  And  after 
ward  they  sang  "  Rule  Britannia  "  in  quite 
a  stirring  way.  Then  Mrs.  Teach  let  them 
eat  as  much  as  they  wanted,  and  I  think 
they  must  be  starved  at  home,1  for  I  have 
never  seen  so  many  cakes,  cups  of  tea,  and 
pieces  of  toast  disappear  in  so  short  a  time. 
Then  they  ran  out  to  play  with  the  other 
children,  and  before  long,  looking  up,  I 
saw  Walter  and  Mr.  Man  walking  at  a 
distance  from  the  others,  with  their  arms 
about  each  other.2 

1  They  were  n't.     It  was  merely  an  incredible  manliness  of 
appetite.  —  F.  H. 

2  Walter  and  I  fell  in  love  with  each  other  at  first  sight. 
And   I  love  him  still,  though   after  that  winter  in  Tours  he 
vanished  out  of  my  life,  and  whither  he  has  gone  and  how  he 
has  fared  I  do  not  know.      He  was  twelve — going  on  thirteen 
— when  I  knew  him,  but  even  at  that  age  he  was  a  very  manly 
man,  chivalrous,  gentle,  brave,  lovely  with  his  mother,  courte 
ous,    thoughtful,    and    romantic.      If    by  any  chance    he    has 
grown  up  to  be  a  typical  insular  Englishman,  I  am  glad  that 
I  do  not  know  him  any  more.     But  if  he  has  fulfilled  his 
promise  and  is  the  ingenuous,  honest,  affectionate  boy  and  man 
that  he  used  to  be,  then  I  would  go  and  seek  him  if  I  were  in 
trouble,  asking  for  no  stronger  arm  to  be  about  my  shoulders, 
and  no  more  kindly  voice  to  tell  me  how  I  had  been  in  the 
wrong,  and  the  most  honorable  way  to  go  about  making  all 
right.      Good  luck  to  you  Walter  Knollys,  and  wherever  you 
have  gone  and  however  you  fare,  may  God  love  you  well.  — E.H. 

117 


XII 

•HERE  may  have  been  seven 
hundred  boys  of  different  sizes 
and  odious  habits  who  were  be 
ing  educated  in  those  days  at  the  Lycee  of 
Tours;  there  may  have  been  seven  thou 
sand.  I  remember  only  numberless  court 
yards  full  to  the  brim  at  recess-time  of 
French  boys,  who  chattered  and  played 
games  in  which  dexterity  received  the 
tribute  which  in  an  English  or  American 
school  would  have  been  paid  alone  to  cour 
age.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  chattering, 
the  strange  cries,  the  face-making,  and  the 
leaping  about.  Never  shall  I  understand 
how  the  armies  of  Napoleon  happened  to 
be  composed  of  Frenchmen.  Nobody  ever 
has  understood  it,  except  Frenchmen.  In 
us  courage  is  a  repose;  in  the  French  it  is 
an  intoxication,  rising  at  times  to  such  a 
118 


ELLEN   AND   MR.  MAN 

fury  of  faith  and  enthusiasm  as  to  enable 
them  to  achieve  things  impossible  to  any 
other  nation  the  globe  over.  I  know  them, 
for  it  is  a  matter  of  history,  to  be  coura 
geous  to  folly;  but  I  have  been  in  their 
schools,  and  I  have  seen  their  children  at 
play,  and  where  they  get  their  courage 
when  they  want  it,  and  what  they  do  with 
it  when  they  don't  want  it,  I  don't  know. 
The  Lycee  at  recess-time  was  like  the  mon 
key  temple  at  Benares — waves  of  black- 
haired,  sharp-eyed  monkeys  swashing 
hither  and  thither,  leaping,  crying,  scold 
ing  with  superhuman  speed,  forgetting 
what  they  had  started  to  do,  and  starting 
something  else. 

In  the  school-room  it  was  another  mat 
ter.  There,  except  for  the  sudden  and 
fierce  sobbing  of  some  poor  little  lad  who 
had  forgotten  one  answer  out  of  ten  thou 
sand  and  was  ashamed,  silence  and  re 
straint  prevailed.  Punishment  was  the 
only  other  disturbance,  and  that  was  al 
ways  a  quick  and  savage  affair.  The 
culprit,  in  tears,  was  dragged  violently 
119 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

from  his  seat  by  the  master  and  beaten 
over  the  head  and  knuckles  with  a  heavy 
ruler,  the  master,  as  a  rule,  performing 
somewhat  as  follows:  whack !( shriek  from 
culprit),  "Cest  drole!  ah!"  whack! 
(shriek)  whack!  whack!  "Cest  drole! 
ah!"  whack!  (shriek);  and  ending  by 
throwing  the  culprit  (aged  in  my  room 
eight  to  ten)  violently  on  the  stone  floor. 
Punishment  such  as  this  was  for  failing 
to  understand  something  or  for  answering 
wrong — real  offenses.  A  blot  on  the  copy 
book  was  visited  with  a  circular  lock-step 
walk,  with  other  culprits,  under  a  shed  at 
recess.  Impertinence  (O  rare  bird!)  was 
the  occasion  for  a  summoning  of  parents, 
guardians,  grandfathers,  sponsors  in  bap 
tism,  the  family  lawyer,  and  the  family 
priest,  and  unspeakable  brutalities.  Stu 
pidity  was  nearly  unknown.  It  was  diffi 
cult  to  say  whether  the  handwriting  of  the 
child  on  my  right  was  more  or  less  ex 
quisite  than  that  of  the  little  child  on  my 
left.  God  alone  knew  which  little  head 
was  more  pregnant  with  facts  learned,  for 
1 20 


ELLEN   AND    MR.   MAN 

a  lifetime  had  not  sufficed  to  catalogue 
the  laborious  acquisitions  of  either.  As 
for  me,  I  learned  nothing  and  was  from 
America. 

If  I  remember  rightly,  the  Lycee  opened 
at  seven-thirty  and  closed  at  four.  One 
lunched  there.  The  tables  were  of  wood, 
bare  of  cloth,  and  stained  with  the  thin, 
sour,  red  wine  (it  may  have  been  ink) 
that  was  given  us  to  drink.  I  have  never 
sampled  a  ten-day  corpse,  but  I  have  eaten 
the  Lycee  butter.  The  wine  that  you 
could  not  drink  you  threw  on  the  floor ;  the 
food  that  you  could  not  eat  was  served 
again  to  you  (on  the  same  plate)  at  the 
next  meal.  You  cleaned  your  plate  with 
your  own  napkin,  and  it  was  only  once 
a  week  that  it  received  a  washing.  Du 
Maurier  has  said  that  he  would  like  to  be 
able  to  whistle  an  old  Paris  smell.  If 
anybody  should  whistle  the  smell  of  the 
Lycee  dining-room  in  my  presence,  I 
would  shoot  him.  They  tell  me  all  this  is 
changed  since  my  day.  It  is  time,  or  else 
there  would  be  no  Napoleonic  armies  in 
121 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

the  future.  I  can  only  say  of  the  Lycee 
food  in  my  time  that  I  never  got  hungry 
enough  to  eat  it  without  disgust,  and  that 
the  least  repulsive  dish  was  undoubtedly 
fairly  fresh  horse.  Friday,  and  what  had 
once  been  fish,  I  will  leave  to  the  imagina 
tion,  merely  remarking  that  it  was  a  mat 
ter  of  great  good  fortune  that  ptomaine 
poisoning  had  not  yet  been  invented.  But 
because  at  the  Lycee  I  became  friends  with 
the  Knollys  boys,  I  have  a  certain  tender 
ness  for  that  institution. 

And  oh  that  the  Lord  would  bring  me 
back  the  little  breakfasts  and  dinners  with 
Ellen  at  Rue  des  Guetteries  dix,  and  let 
me  look  once  more  in  the  healthy,  happy, 
plump  face  of  Eugenie,  that  pearl  of 
cooks !  For  breakfast  a  fresh  egg,  choc 
olate  and  whipped  cream,  Rillette  de 
Tours,  rolls  light  as  down;  sometimes  a 
sausage,  sometimes  a  dish  of  roasted  mus 
sels.  For  dinner  potatoes  (like  whipped 
cream),  a  roast  fowl  stuffed  with  chest 
nuts,  perhaps  goose-liver  writh  rice,  a 
dessert  fantastic  in  design  and  exquisite 
in  flavor. 

122 


He  gathered  his  books  together  and  came  home 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

While  I  was  at  school  Ellen  studied 
with  her  tutor  or  worked  at  her  music, 
and  did  her  housekeeping  (Eugenie  let  her 
do  precious  little  of  that!),  and  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon  we  played  together  to 
our  heart's  content,  taking  long  walks, 
visiting  curiosity-shops,  churches,  the 
library,  the  zoo;  often  alone,  but  more 
often  accompanied  by  the  Knollys  boys 
(who  had  fallen  in  love  with  Ellen),  the 
Teach  girl,  and  Blanche.  I  was  in  love 
with  Blanche,  the  shy  and  silent  one.  I 
was  not  ashamed  of  it  at  the  time,  any 
more  than  I  am  now.  And  so  were  Wal 
ter  and  Maurice  (theoretically — their  real 
affections  were  bestowed  on  Ellen)  ;  but 
Harold  was  single  in  his  devotions,  and 
pined  and  longed  and  ogled  for  the  favor 
of  Ellen,  who,  in  her  own  way,  had  lost 
her  heart  to  Walter,  and  had  a  little  tin 
type  of  him  on  her  bureau.  I  quote  from 
the  journal  book: 

Sunday.     Other  people  may  be  happy, 
and  I  hope  they  are,  but  Mr.  Man  and  I 
are  the  happiest  people  in  the  world.    The 
123 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

only  cloud  was  Mr.  Man's  career  at  the 
Lycee,  which,  thank  God,  has  terminated. 
It  seems  that  the  brute  of  a  master  tried 
to  punish  him  for  sticking  a  pen  in  the 
calf  of  the  boy  in  front  of  him  (who 
promptly  shrieked  and  told),  and  that 
Mr.  Man,  resisting  punishment,  burned 
his  bridges  and  threw  the  ink-well  into  the 
master's  face.  The  master,  it  seems,  ran 
shrieking  from  the  room,  to  get  the  help 
of  some  one  higher  in  authority.  The 
other  scholars  drew  back  from  Mr.  Man 
as  if  he  had  the  smallpox,  and  probably 
prayed  to  their  saints,  while  he,  nothing 
daunted,  gathered  his  books  together, 
drew  a  picture  of  a  donkey  on  the  black 
board,  labeled  it  with  the  master's  name, 
and  came  home.  The  Lycee  is  a  dreadful 
place:  (a)  the  rooms  are  not  ventilated; 
(b)  the  masters  are  unjust;  (c)  the  boys 
are  sneaks;  (d)  the  food  is  vile;  (e)  the 
tone  is  immoral. 

Wednesday.     Mr.  Man  is  attending  a 
little    private    school     (there    are    forty 
scholars)  up  near  the  river.     The  school 
124 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

is  taught  entirely  by  a  man  and  his  wife, 
who,  while  being  absurdly  French,  are 
very  kindly.  When  they  showed  me  over 
the  school-room,  I  remarked  that  it  was 
very  cold.  "  Ah,"  said  M.  La  Roche, 
"  that,  when  the  scholars  have  been  in  it 
a  little  time,  is  soon  amended."  The  idea 
is  horrible,  but  it  is  for  Mr.  Man's  own 
good  that  he  learn  French,  and  perhaps 
they  open  the  windows  when  it  gets  too 
warm. 


125 


XIII 

N  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
above  the  convent  of  Marmon- 
tier,  and  belonging  to  it,  was  a 
chateau  called  Rougemont,  which  the 
Knollys  rented.  There  was  a  big  square 
garden  wi,th  ruined  towers  at  the  corners, 
while  the  house  itself  was  a  long,  massive 
block  of  masonry  with  a  fat  snuffer  tower 
at  each  end.  The  Knollys  were  poor  and 
many,  but  they  kept  open  house  and  were 
lovely  to  children.  Mrs.  Knollys  was  a 
Brazilian,  with  fine  dark  eyes  and  very 
shapely  hands  and  feet.  She  played  the 
piano  beautifully,  and  it  was  on  the  stone 
floor  of  her  drawing-room  that  we  chil 
dren  learned  dancing  twice  a  week.  And 
oh,  the  bliss  of  prancing  about  the  room 
with  the  shy  and  silent  Blanche! 

Harold,   being  already  learned   in  the 
126 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

light  fantastic,  danced  with  us  or  not,  ac 
cording  to  his  good  pleasure.  If  Ellen 
was  present,  it  would  please  him  to  stay 
and  dance;  if  not,  he  would  most  likely 
go  rabbit-hunting.  That  was  the  privi 
lege  of  years.  How  much  Walter  and 
Maurice  and  I  longed  for  even  one  gun 
between  us  will  never  be  known.  We 
were  oblivious  to  the  obvious  and  well- 
known  fact  that  Harold  never  brought 
any  rabbits  home  with  him. 

Everybody  was  happy  in  those  days— 
at  least,  I  was.  There  was  always  fun  to 
be  had  or  an  adventure.  We  got  to  know 
all  the  English  and  American  colony  well, 
and  many  charming  French  families.  Es 
pecially  we  loved  a  truly  beautiful  and 
great  French  lady  to  whom  it  must  have 
been  an  everlasting  solace  to  know  that 
her  name  was  Madame  la  Vicomtesse 
de  La  Montaigne  Solaire.  She  and  the 
archbishop  were  the  richest  people  in 
Tours,  and  the  most  charitable.  De  La 
Montaigne  himself  was  dead,  and  ma- 
dame  had  dedicated  her  eternal  youth  and 
127 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

beauty  to  black,  in  which  she  was  be 
witching.  Her  brother  was  Claude  St. 
Anne,  the  chocolate  king,  of  whom  every 
body  with  even  the  most  paltry  interest  in 
magnates  has  heard.  We  heard  a  great 
deal  about  him  from  the  vicomtesse,  and 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  that  he 
should  come  to  Tours  and  see  Ellen.  The 
vicomtesse  insisted  upon  it.  She  wanted 
to  make  a  match,  and  to  Ellen's  laughing 
protests  she  turned  a  deaf  ear  and  an  in 
sistent  spirit.  "  Let  him  merely  set  eyes 
on  you,"  madame  would  say,  "  and  the 
marriage  is  made." 

Then  she  would  say  how  good  and 
beautiful  he  was,  and  how  young  and 
rich;  how  he  had  three  great  houses  that 
had  belonged  to  kings,  and  an  estate  in 
Canada  that  was  about  as  big  as  France, 
and,  she  would  add  pitifully,  nobody  but 
himself  to  do  the  marketing.  Then  she 
would  tell,  strictly  for  my  benefit,  how 
much  chocolate  her  brother's  factories 
turned  out  in  a  year,  a  month,  a  day.  I 
forget  the  exact  statistics,  but  incline  to 
128 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

the  impression  that  the  year's  output 
would  have  made  a  rod  six  inches  in  di 
ameter  of  triple  extract  of  vanilla,  yellow 
label,  from  Paris  to  the  moon. 

One  day  the  vicomtesse  took  a  letter 
from  her  blotter  and  waved  it  trium 
phantly  at  Ellen. 

"It  is  enough,"  she  said;  "he  is  com 
ing.  Hear  now  what  he  says,  and  if  I 
have  done  wrong,  scold  me."  Then  she 
read: 

"  Whenever  I  hear  from  you,  dear  sister,  I 
feel  as  if  an  angel  had  written  to  me.  But  how 
shall  I  thank  you  for  this  last  letter,  written  as 
it  is  by  one  angel  and  containing  the  picture  of 
another — " 

She  paused. 

"  I  sent  him  your  photograph,  Ellen," 
she  said  defiantly.  "  I  know  that  I  had  not 
the  right.  Now  scold  me !  " 

For  some  reason  Ellen  did  not  scold. 
Madame  read  on. 

"  I  return  the  picture,  because  I  have  not  the 
right  to  keep  it ;  but  I  shall  not  let  it  be  long 
129 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

out  of  my  sight,  for  in  three  days  I  shall  be  in 
your  house  and  at  the  feet  of  it.  Commend  me 
to  the  original,  for  whom  I  have  already  the 
most  profound  admiration." 

"  That  is  enough  for  you  to  hear,"  said 
madame.  "  You  see  he  is  coming,  and 
the  marriage  is  as  good  as  made." 

Ellen  lay  back  in  her  chair  and  laughed, 
but  I  think  in  her  heart,  and  in  spite  of 
herself,  she  was  somewhat  excited  at  the 
prospect  of  St.  Anne's  visit. 

But  the  third  day  arrived,  and  no  St. 
Anne.  The  vicomtesse  did  not  seem  in 
the  least  disturbed,  and  said,  "  Affairs- 
affairs  " ;  but  Ellen,  who  should  n't  have 
been,  was.  (Bless  her  heart!)  I  think  the 
sly  rogue  had  been  building  a  little  ro 
mance  about  the  chocolate  king— a  very 
little  one.  But  she  laughed  about  it  and 
called  him  names  to  his  sister.  She  spoke 
of  him  as  her  faithless  lover  and  a 
wrecker  of  hearts. 

M.  Carriere,  Ellen's  tutor,  came  every 
morning  at  nine,  and  occasionally  of  an 
afternoon  paid  her  an  unprofessional  visit. 
130 


ELLEN  AND  MR.  MAN 

He  was  a  dear  little  bushy  man,  as  gentle 
as  a  pigeon,  and  very  learned.  One  day 
Ellen  said  to  me :  "  Mr.  Man,  what  do  you 
think  can  be  the  matter  with  monsieur? 
He  came  to  teach  me  this  morning,  and 
when  he  left  said  that  he  had  something 
to  say,  and  when  he  tried  to  say  it  he 
burst  out  crying.  He  said  something 
about  being  obliged  to  stop  teaching  me, 
and  jumped  up  and  ran  out  of  the  house." 

'''  Perhaps  he  's  in  love  with  you,  too, 
Ellen/'  I  said,  for  I  was  getting  worldly 
wise.  You  could  n't  help  it,  living  with 
Ellen  and  seeing  the  heads  turn.  Usually 
when  I  said  things  like  that  Ellen  called 
me  a  prim  little  goose  and  laughed  at  me; 
but  this  time  she  seemed  prepared  to  dis 
cuss  the  matter  seriously,  and  in  the  very 
middle  of  the  discussion  who  should  ring 
and  be  admitted  but  M.  Carriere  himself ! 
He  brought  a  large  bouquet  of  roses  with 
a  stiff  collar  of  paper  lace  about  it. 

"  Dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  bowing 
and  breathing  hard,  but  otherwise  very 
possessed,  "  I  have  come  to  say  what  I 


ELLEN    AND   MR.   MAN 

was  unable  to  say  this  morning.  I  have 
come  to  say  good-by.  I  shall  not  be  able 
to  teach  you  any  more.  I  have  been  called 
to  the  chair  of  French  in  the  University  of 
Montreal.  That  is  why  I  was  so  troubled 
this  morning,  for  it  came  over  me  all  of 
a  sudden  that  we  had  had  our  last  lesson 
together,  and  I  am  a  lonely  old  man  with 
no  wife  or  little  ones,  and  I  had  come  to 
regard  you  and  p'tit  monsieur  as  some 
thing  very  sweet  and  good  that  belonged 
to  me.  I  have  for  you  two  young  people 
the  feelings  of  a  father,  and  in  saying 
adieu  to  you,  I  beg  your  acceptance  of  this 
insignificant  bouquet  of  roses,  and  may  I 
add,  in  the  delicate  phrase  of  your  so  great 
Shakspere,  '  Nymve,  een  thy  oresons  be 
all  my  seens  remember/  ' 

Ellen  mothered  the  little  man,  and  pat 
ted  him  on  the  back,  and  buried  her  face 
in  the  roses,  and  said  all  the  sweet  things 
she  could  think  of.  Presently  Eugenie 
brought  in  tea,  and  to  this  day  I  think 
I  can  see  little  M.  Carriere,  a  cup  and  sau 
cer  in  one  hand,  a  slice  of  bread  with  one 
132 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

bite  gone  in  the  other,  his  little  feet 
pressed  closely  together,  his  funny  tall 
hat  on  the  floor  beside  him,  and  a  glis 
tening  tear  in  the  corner  of  each  eye. 

"As  for  further  lessons  in  French,  dear 
young  lady,"  he  said,  "  I  have  spoken  to 
my  very  great  friend,  Monsieur  Langeais, 
and  he  will  call  upon  you  in  the  morning 
at  "  (he  gulped)  "  the  usual  hour.  He  is 
one  of  the  truest  scholars  in  France,  and 
I  feel  confident  that  you  will  like  him.  He 
is  not  old  like  me,"  he  added  wistfully. 

When  he  had  finished  his  tea,  the  little 
man  asked  Ellen  to  sing  him  one  song,  for 
the  long  good-by.  And  when  she  had 
done,  he  gave  her  one  look  of  anguish  and 
adoration,  and  left  the  house. 

Ellen  was  prepared  to  hate  the  new 
tutor. 


133 


XIV 

S  I  came  home  from  school  the 
next  afternoon,  I  found  the  vi- 
comtesse's  carriage  drawn  up  in 
front  of  Rue  des  Guetteries  dix,  and  herself 
in  the  act  of  dismounting  therefrom.  She 
was  in  great  good  humor  and  boxed  my 
ears  for  me.  We  went  in  together  and 
found  Ellen  at  the  piano.  She  was  not 
playing,  however,  but  dreaming,  and  her 
eyes  were  on  the  bouquet  of  roses  which 
poor  little  M.  Carriere  had  given  her. 
Ellen  jumped  up  with  a  little  glad  cry  as 
we  came  in  and  kissed  the  vicomtesse. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  latter,  "  I  have 
heard  that  Monsieur  Carriere  has  been 
obliged  to  leave  you,  and  I  have  come 
over  at  once  to  give  you  the  name  of  an 
other  French  professor  who  has  most  ex 
cellent  credentials." 

134 


ELLEN   AND   MR.    MAN 

'  That  is  very  sweet  of  you,"  said  Ellen, 
"  but  I  have  already  engaged  a  tutor." 

Madame  seemed  disappointed. 

'  You  are  a  devout  student !  "  she  ex 
claimed.     "And  who  is  the  lucky  man?" 

"  A  Monsieur  Langeais,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Langeais,"      said     madame,—  "  Lan 
geais,"  as  if  the  name  conveyed  nothing, 

"  a  little  anemic  man  with  side-whis 
kers?" 

Ellen  laughed. 

"  He  's  very  big  and  strong!  "  she  said. 

"  Now    I    place    him,"    said    madame. 
;<  But,  my  dear,  he  is  so  young!  " 

"  Awfully,"  said  Ellen. 

"  But  is  it— quite  proper?  " 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Ellen;  "  and  be 
sides,  I  have  Eugenie." 

"  Still,"  said  madame,  "  a  young  tutor 
—  I  am  not  sure  that  I  should  permit  my 
self  one.     Would  n't  you  better  dismiss 
him  and  try  my  man?  " 

"  But  I  Ve  engaged  him,"  said  Ellen. 

Madame  insisted. 

Ellen  became  stubborn. 
135 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

"  My  dear,"  said  madame,  "  you  dis 
play  too  much  interest  in  this  creature. 
You  stand  up  for  him  as  if  he  were  an  old 
and  tried  friend." 

"  Why,"  said  Ellen,  "  he  's  got  the  man 
liest  and  most  honest  face  I  ever  saw. 
I  'd  trust  him  anywhere.  He  's  the  soul 
of  courtesy,  and  a  gentleman  every  inch  of 
him." 

"  My  dear,"  said  madame,  "  people  will 
talk;  be  advised." 

"  I  am  here  to  study  French,"  said 
Ellen,  "  under  the  best  master  I  can  find, 
and  if  people  talk,  they  may.  I  'm  sure  I 
don't  care." 

Madame  rose. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said,  "  if  it  is  a  ques 
tion  of  the  best  master,  I  have  nothing  to 
'  say.  By  the  way,"  she  added,  and  there 
was  a  twinkle  in  her  right  eye  and  a  slight 
closing  of  her  left,  "  do  you  happen  to 
know  the  name  of  the  best  master  to  study 
under?" 

We  were  unable  to  answer  this  enig 
matical  question,  and  madame,  assuming 
136 


ELLEN   AND   MR.   MAN 

the  manner  and  voice  of  a  woman  of  the 
people  (a  thing  she  could  do  with  inimi 
table  humor),  sang  blatantly  the  refrain 
of  Nicholas: 

"  Le  voila,  Nicholas.    Ah-ah-ah  !  " 
and,  laughing,  left  us. 

Wednesday.  My  new  tutor  is  an  ex 
cellent  young  man,  and  speaks  the  most 
beautiful  French,  and  sings  and  plays 
charmingly.  He  is  very  big  and  has 
brown  hair  and  brown  eyes,  and  is  clean- 
shaved,  which  is  very  rare  in  a  French 
man.  I  feel  very  sorry  for  him;  he  is  an 
orphan  and  has  no  money  except  what  he 
can  make  by  tutoring.  The  vicomtesse 
tries  to  tease  me  about  him.  I  am  begin 
ning  to  think  she  is  a  very  flippant  woman. 
Yesterday  they  both  came  to  tea,  and 
she  treated  him  du  haut  en  bas,  which  I 
have  never  known  her  to  do  to  any  one 
before,  and  which  I  thought  in  very  bad 
form.  Why  is  it  that  just  as  soon  as  you 
think  a  certain  person  is  perfect  he  or  she 
137 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

proceeds  to  disclose  a  cloven  hoof?  Mr. 
Man  is  devoted  to  M.  Langeais,  and  they 
have  been  for  several  excursions  together 
of  an  afternoon.  M.  Langeais  knows 
everything  and  is  a  splendid  comrade  for 
Mr.  Man.  He  has  learned  more  French 
on  their  few  walks  than  in  all  the  rest  of 
the  time  he  has  been  here.  And  as  for  me, 
my  progress  really  astonishes  me,  or  else 
M.  Langeais  flatters.  But  I  don't  think  so, 
because  he  is  absolutely  indifferent  to  me. 
I  know  this,  because  I  have  gathered  from 
his  conversation  that  he  is  in  love  with 
some  girl,  and  they  cannot  get  married 
because  they  are  poor.  The  question 
d' argent  is  a  beastly  thing.  I  have  always 
wished  to  be  very  rich,  and  now  I  am  be 
ginning  not  to  care.  I  think  money  is  a 
very  sordid  consideration,  and  I  think 
there  could  be  just  as  much  happiness  in 
a  little  tiny  menage  as  in  a  marble  palace. 

Do  you  still  think  so,  guileless  one? 

Such  an  excitement!     They  had  been 
digging   round   the   base   of   the   Tower 
138 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

Charlemagne,  and  had  found  the  long- 
lost  grave  of  St.  Martin  of  Tours  (he  was 
the  man,  as  you  may  know  from  the 
legend  books,  who  always  raised  such 
Cain — physically  and  repartetically — with 
the  devil),  and  Ellen  and  M.  Langeais  and 
I  (he  calls  me  Monsieur  Pat-a-Pouf)  are 
going  to  climb  the  tower  and  see  the  pil 
grim  exercises  from  the  top. 

A  family  lived  on  garlic  in  the  base  of 
the  Tower  Charlemagne,  and  if  you  were 
polite  to  them,  they  would  let  you  through 
their  kitchen  and  show  you  the  begin 
ning  of  the  winding  stairway  that  leads  to 
the  top.  The  rest  was  between  you  and 
your  feet.  That  stair  is  one  of  the  worst 
in  the  world;  each  step  has  been  so  hol 
lowed  by  myriad  feet  that  the  ascent  is 
like  that  of  a  spirally  inclined  plane.  Tou- 
jours  la  jeunesse— I  scrambled  on  ahead 
and  reached  the  top  of  the  tower  alone. 
Ellen  and  Langeais  were  a  long  time  com 
ing. 

Two  hundred  feet  and  more  below  me 
the  streets  were  crowded  with  the  mob 
139 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

through  which  we  had  been  obliged  to 
come  to  reach  the  tower.  They  were  mostly 
common  people,  courtezans,  bread-mak 
ers,  and  peasants  from  the  country,  and 
they  looked  no  bigger  than  ants.  Many 
of  the  women  wore  lovely  floppy  linen 
caps,  and  there  was  wealth  of  color.  An 
oblong  hole  in  the  street  was  surrounded 
by  a  low  wooden  fence  and  robed  priests; 
candles  burned  fitfully,  and  one  priest  at 
the  head  of  the  grave  held  in  his  left  hand 
a  brass  and  glass  reliquary  which  the  peo 
ple  pressed  upon  one  another  to  kiss.  In 
his  right  hand  the  priest  had  a  little  rag 
with  which  he  diligently  polished  the  glass 
of  the  reliquary  between  kisses.  It  is  for 
tunate  that  that  crowd  was  enjoying 
pretty  good  health.  I  know  I  was,  for  I 
had  a  splendid  time  all  by  myself  on  top  of 
the  tower,  and  was  not  a  bit  giddy.  Pres 
ently  I  became  aware  of  a  great  craning 
of  necks,  and  looking  away  up  the  street, 
saw  the  archbishop  and  about  a  hundred 
yards  of  priests,  all  in  brilliant  colors,  ap 
proaching.  Where  were  Ellen  and  Lan- 
140 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

geais?  I  could  not  bear  to  have  them 
miss  the  pageant,  and  so  I  dove  out  of  the 
bright  sunlight  into  the  dark  entrance  of 
the  stairway,  as  a  prairie-dog  into  its  bur 
row.  It  was  so  dark  inside  that  I  had  to 
go  slowly,  for  my  eyes  were  still  focused 
for  the  sunlight.  I  had  made  two  com 
plete  turns  of  the  spiral  before  I  heard  the 
voices  of  my  elders  and  betters.  But  I 
could  only  distinguish  what  Langeais  said. 
It  was  in  his  best  English : 

"  There  was  nevaire  any  one  bot  you." 
So  I  knew  that  Langeais  was  following 
in  the  footsteps  of  all  the  others,  and  turn 
ing,  I  remounted  the  stair. 

The  archbishop  was  nearing  the  grave, 
and  as  he  passed  slowly  through  the  dense 
crowd,  between  the  devout  ranks  of 
bended  heads,  he  blessed  with  one  hand 
and  held  out  the  ring  upon  the  other  for 
the  people  to  kiss.  But  sometimes  he 
smiled  and  patted  a  little  child  on  the  head. 


141 


XV 

"LLEN  and  Langeais  have  gone 
for  a  walk.  I  am  alone  in  the 
house,  and  have  a  headache.  I 
shall  go  and  tell  a  friend  about  it  and  be 
made  whole.  Shall  I  go  to  Blanche,  whom 
I  love  (the  shy  and  silent  one)?  No; 
I  do  not  wish  to  do  the  talking.  I  will 
go  to  Walter  at  Rougemont.  There  is 
no  spring  in  the  feet.  I  pass  the  Maison 
Polti,  that  window  of  bright  jewels,  with 
out  so  much  as  a  look.  I  leave  Roche's, 
the  delectable  cake-shop,  astern,  without 
any  feeling  of  unsatisfied  desire.  I  pass 
the  statue  of  Balzac  and  do  not,  as  usual, 
wonder  what  great  general  he  may  have 
been,  what  were  his  victories  and  who 
were  his  enemies.  The  wind  is  blowing 
strong  down  the  Loire  and  cools  the  burn 
ing  face.  I  cross  the  beautiful  long 
142 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

bridge,  but  do  not  pause  to  speculate  on 
the  wonder  of  currents.  I  turn  to  the 
right  and  go  heavily  along  the  little  path 
that  is  on  the  top  of  the  dike.  I  pass 
through  a  green  gate  and  ascend  the  tell 
ing  stone-walled  zigzag  to  Rougemont. 
Walter  and  Maurice  are  in  an  apple-tree. 
They  invite  me  up.  I  do  not  feel  like 
climbing,  and  tell  them  so.  They  descend 
to  make  personal  remarks  about  my  face, 
which,  it  seems,  is  covered  with  red 
blotches.  I  become  alarmed,  and  we  go 
into  the  house  so  that  I  may  see  myself 
in  a  mirror.  I  look  as  if  I  had  slept 
in  a  New  Jersey  swamp  during  the  sea 
son  when  the  mosquitos  are  at  their  best. 
I  become  further  alarmed  and  desire  home 
and  Ellen.  Walter  is  concerned  about  me. 
Walter  draws  his  arm  through  my  own 
and  says  that  he  will  go  home  with  me. 
I  tell  him  not  to  bother,  and  Walter  tells 
me  not  to  be  a  silly  little  beast.  Wre  leave 
Maurice,  who  is  too  young  to  under 
stand  sickness  and  the  trials  of  his  elders 
and  betters,  and  start  for  home. 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

I  am  overtaken  by  an  accident  in  the 
boulevard,  before  everybody.  Walter 
holds  my  head  and  comforts  me,  bless 
him!  and  I  am  so  dizzy  that  Walter  is 
obliged  to  bend  his  strong  young  shoul 
ders  and  carry  me  pickaback  the  rest  of 
the  way. 

Eugenie  screams  at  the  sight  of  me 
and  hurries  me  to  bed.  Walter  will  not 
go,  but  I  am  too  sick  to  talk  to  him.  Wal 
ter  sits  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  tells 
me  with  laborious  pains  the  whole  story 
of  King  Solomon's  mines,  which  he  has 
just  read.  My  heart  thanks  him  for  the 
effort,  but  my  head  is  weary,  and  it 
would  take  more  than  savages  and  Sir 
Henry  Curtises  and  wicked  old  Gaghools 
to  bring  it  to  attention. 

God  help  me!  I  am  become  loathsome 
and  a  menace  alike  to  friends  and  enemies 
—  if  so  be  that  I  have  any.  The  first  thing 
Ellen  did  when  she  found  out  was  to  send 
word  to  Langeais  that  he  must  not  come 
near  the  house.  The  first  thing  Lan 
geais  did  was  to  come.  He  came  calmly 
144 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

and  joyfully,  and  I  could  hear  him  down 
stairs  saying  comforting  things  to  Ellen, 
who  had  run  weeping  to  let  him  in.  Then 
he  came  up-stairs  and  succeeded  in  mak 
ing  M.  Pat-a-Pouf  laugh.  After  a  time 
I  fell  asleep,  and  waking,  was  too  weary 
to  open  my  eyes,  and  heard  as  in  a  dream. 

"  And  if  I  were  to  take  it  and  become 
pock-marked  and  hideous,  it  would  make 
no  difference?  " 

Then  the  gentlest  laugh. 

And  I  fell  asleep  again. 

Everybody  that  I  have  ever  spoken  to 
has  been  corralled.  I  am  the  most  talked- 
of  person  in  Tours,  and  the  population 
thereof  wishes  that  I  had  choked  before 
ever  I  left  my  native  heath  and  crossed 
the  boisterous  Atlantic.  I  am  expected 
to  be  responsible  for  as  many  deaths  as 
the  Colt  revolver  or  the  poison  of  the  Bor- 
gias,  and  I  do  not  care  a  hurrah!  It  is 
a  fine  time  to  find  out  who  one's  real 
friends  are.  Madame  la  Vicomtesse  de 
La  Montaigne  Solaire  has  sent  to  Paris 

145 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

for  an  expert.  We  are  waiting  his  ar 
rival.  Now  he  enters  with  the  local  doc 
tor  and  beholds  me  in  all  my  loathsome 
ness.  He  is  a  big,  jolly  man,  and  he  smiles 
at  me,  and  I  do  my  best  to  smile  back,  but 
the  doctor  has  been  so  much  heralded  that 
I  am  sore  afraid. 

'  Vous  voyez,  monsieur,"  says  the  local 
doctor. 

"  Si,  je  vois,"  says  the  expert,  and  sud 
denly  clapping  his  hand  upon  his  col 
league's  shoulder,  he  bursts  into  a  house- 
shaking  peal  of  laughter.  He  calms 
himself,  and  addressing  Ellen,  Langeais, 
Eugenie,  the  local  doctor,  and  me,  speaks 
as  follows: 

"  In  the  current  of  my  practice,  it  hap 
pened,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  this 
morning  I  was  to  deliver  a  duchess  of  an 
infant,  to  dress  the  festering  finger  of  the 
President  of  the  French  republic,  and  to 
give  a  lecture  on  the  esthetics  of  medi 
cine.  I  was  also  on  the  point  of  adminis 
tering  an  ice-bath  to  a  general  who  is 
suffering  from  pneumonia,  and  I  was  en- 
146 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

gaged  for  luncheon  with  my  best  friend. 
In  the  face  of  these  interesting  events  I 
received  a  telegram  from  my  dear  friend 
the  vicomtesse.  It  read :  '  If  you  don't 
come  to  Tours  by  the  next  train  to  attend 
a  case  of  smallpox'  in  which  I  am  in 
terested,  I  will  never  speak  to  you  again.' 
It  was  enough;  I  came.  .  .  This  little 
gentleman"  (and  he  pointed  at  me), 
"  what  is  his  name?  " 

"  Pat-a-Pouf,"   said  Langeais,  firmly. 

The  great  doctor  winked  at  me. 

"This  little  Monsieur  Pat-a-Pouf,"  he 
said,  "  is  not  suffering  from  smallpox, 
but  measles." 

Langeais  gave  a  shout  of  laughter. 

The  great  doctor  winked  at  him— in 
deed,  there  seemed  to  be  an  understanding 
between  them — and  turned  to  Ellen. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "  you  have 
been  drinking  too  much  coffee." 

"  It  was  to  keep  me  awake,"  said  Ellen. 

'  There  is  no  longer  any  need,"  said  the 
great  doctor,  "  and  I  advise  you  to  go 
back  to — chocolate." 

H7 


XVI 

1HERE  is  nothing  which  I  de 
spise  more  or  which  gives  me 
greater  satisfaction  than  eaves 
dropping.  Now  that  I  am  grown  up 
I  am  abnormally  honest  about  it,  be 
cause  I  know  that  I  like  it  too  well, 
and  that  it  is  a  device  of  the  evil  one. 
Even  when  I  was  little  I  had  pricks 
of  conscience  about  it,  and  used  to  swear 
off  for  days  at  a  time.  But  when  I  was 
sick  in  Tours,  convalescing,  and  in  great 
need  of  something  to  comfort  me,  I  would 
as  soon  have  gone  without  my  daily  por 
tion  of  hearing  things  that  I  was  not  in 
tended  to  as  without  the  wine-jelly  which 
the  vicomtesse  sent  to  me  daily.  Ellen 
and  Langeais  were  constantly  with  me, 
and  when  I  was  awake  they  spent  most  of 
their  time  saying  and  doing  things  calcu- 
148 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

lated  to  amuse  a  sick  child,  but  directly 
I  pretended  to  be  asleep  they  would  fall 
to  talking  in  a  much  more  interesting, 
and,  let  me  add,  interested  way. 

"  Ellen,"  said  Langeais  one  day,  "  there 
is  still  time  to  retire  from  the  situation 
if  you  are  afraid.  It  is  not  a  bad  thing  to 
live  on  a  little  money  if  you  think  that  the 
future  may  bring  you  more.  But  if  you 
are  quite  sure  that  the  income  will  not  in 
crease  materially,  and  that  expenses  will 
(for  that  is  the  inevitable  consequence  of 
marriage),  you  will  do  wisely  to  think 
twice.  Say  that  our  joint  resources  are 
enough  to  give  us  a  little  house  such  as 
this,  one  servant,  a  little  place  for  Mon 
sieur  Pat-a-Pouf,  and  beyond  that  no 
thing.  Shall  you  be  content  to  live  out 
your  life  here  in  Tours,  not  to  travel, 
never  to  go  back  into  the  great  world, 
from  which  you  have  stepped  for  a  lit 
tle,  and  to  which  you  belong?  Shall  you 
be  content  with  a  walk  into  the  coun 
try  now  and  then  for  recreation,  an  even 
ing  at  the  theater,  a  quiet  game  of  piquet 
149 


ELLEN    AND   MR.    MAN 

for  nothing  a  point  with  me,  and  the  se 
clusion  of  your  beauty  and  music  all  your 
young  days  ?  I  say  that  when  I  think  that 
I  have  asked  you  to  do  these  things  for 
me,  and  that  you  have  consented,  I  feel 
at  once  so  proud  that  I  could  cry  out,  and 
a  little  bit  selfish  and  ashamed.  And 
I  ask  you  to  take  back  your  promise  for  a 
time,  and  think  it  all  over." 

"  No  amount  of  thinking  could  make 
me  change,  dear,"  said  Ellen,  "  or  take 
back  anything  I  have  said.  I  think  I  de 
spise  riches." 

Langeais  laughed. 

"But  your  beauty?" 

"  That  is  for  you  to  think  about." 

"  And  your  voice,  which  marriage  with 
me  will  lose  to  the  world?  " 

"  It  won't  be  lost  to  you— if  you  like  it." 

"  And  your  country?  " 

"  There  was  a  man  over  there,"  said 
Ellen,  "  who  used  to  tell  me  four  or  five 
times  a  week  that  he  could  not  live  with 
out  me,  and  I  was  very  much  flattered, 
and  very  young,  and  a  little  fool,  and  I 
began  to  think  that  I  liked  him  very  much. 
150 


ELLEN   AND   MR.   MAN 

Then  we  lost  our  money,  and  I  said  to 
myself,  if  he  comes  to  me  now  and  tells  me 
that  he  cannot  live  without  me,  I  '11  tell 
him  that  he  need  n't.  But  he  did  n't.  In 
stead,  he  came  and  told  me  that  I  could 
always  count  on  him  as  a  friend,  and  that 
if  there  was  anything  he  could  do—  So 
I  laughed  at  him,  and  that  was  the  end  of 
that.  That  was  the  last  really  important 
thing  that  happened  to  me  in  my  coun- 
try." 

Usually  I  was  very  jealous  of  Ellen's 
admirers.  I  had  hated  that  man  Craven, 
for  instance,  and  the  men  on  the  steamer, 
and  was  sometimes  jealous  of  Walter 
even.  But  it  was  different  with  Langeais. 
You  could  n't  have  entertained  a  petty 
thought  about  that  man  to  save  your  life. 
He  was  so  big  and  masterful  and  kind, 
and  I  am  going  to  copy  out  of  the  journal 
book  to  give  you  some  idea  of  what  Ellen 
thought  about  him. 

Thursday.  I  have  burned  my  bridges, 
given  up  all  idea  of  going  on  the  stage 
and  becoming  famous  and  rich.  I  am  go- 


ELLEN   AND   MR.  MAN 

ing  to  marry  a  Frenchman  who  has  n't 
a  cent  in  the  world  and  be  happy  all  my 
life.  The  wretch  did  n't  even  have  to  ask 
me  twice.  When  he  proposed  I  wanted 
to  throw  my  arms  around  his  neck  and 
say  yes;  but  habit  got  the  better  of  me, 
and  I  started  in  to  beat  about  the  bush 
and  be  tentative,  and  put  him  off.  But 
when  he  said  that  he  would  never  trouble 
me  again  (and  he  meant  it)  I  simply  gave 
in,  and  I  have  been  laughing  and  crying 
ever  since. 

Friday.  I  had  to  tell  somebody  and  get 
advice  (not  that  I  had  the  slightest  inten 
tion  of  taking  it,  if  it  went  against  my 
wishes),  and  so  I  ran  at  once  to  the  vicom- 
tesse,  and  before  I  could  tell  her  she  knew. 

"  You  have  suddenly  grown  up,  my 
dear,"  she  said.  "  I  hope  you  will  be  very 
happy." 

Then  she  made  me  come  and  sit  on  the 
arm  of  her  chair,  and  she  put  her  arm 
around  me,  and  we  had  a  long  talk,  and 
she  was  the  dearest,  sweetest  thing. 

"  Are  you  very  sure  of  yourself, 
152 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

Poosy  "  (I  think  she  means  Pussy),  "  and 
have  you  considered  the  difficulties,  the 
dangers,  and  the  renunciations  ?  Frankly, 
I  like  your  young  man,  but  from  the 
worldly  point  of  view,  Poosy,  what  are 
we  to  say  of  him?  He  is  nearing  thirty 
—what  has  he  accomplished?  Is  he  a 
breadwinner,  a  man  likely  to  get  on  in 
the  world?" 

I  told  her  that  I  thought  we  could  live 
on  what  we  had  even  if  my  dear  did  n't 
get  on  and  was  n't  successful,  and  she 
smiled  at  me  a  long  time. 

"Pretty  Poosy,"  she  said,  "I  had 
hoped  for  you  for  my  brother.  Ah,  if  he 
had  only  come !  " 

'  That  fickle  man,"  I  said,  "  who  ad 
mired  my  photograph  so  much  that  he 
would  never  come  near  me." 

:<  It  would  have  been  so  beautiful,"  she 
went  on  without  hearing.  "  So  much 
money,  such  looks  on  both  sides,  so  many 
establishments,  so  many  things  to  do,  so 
large  and  charitable  a  life  it  would  have 
been— the  world  made  easy!" 
153 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

"  I  think  the  world  is  easy  enough  as  it 
is  and  very  beautiful,"  said  I. 

"  But  your  religion,"  she  said  suddenly. 
"Have  you  thought  of  that?  Can  you 
give  that  up?  For  this  Langeais  is  a 
Catholic,  is  he  not?  " 

"  I  suppose  something  can  be  done 
about  it,"  I  said. 

"  My  dear,"  said  she,  "  you  need  a 
strong  arm  to  lean  on." 

"  I  have,"  said  I. 

"  I  mean  of  an  older  and  wiser  man," 
she  said. 

"  Other  men  may  be  older—  '  I  began 
rather  sharply. 

'''  Will  you  go  to  the  archbishop,"  she 
said,  "  if  I  give  you  a  letter  to  him?  He 
is  very  great  and  wise.  And  he  will  tell 
you  what  you  must  do  in  this  matter." 

Saturday.  I  sent  my  letter  in  to  the 
archbishop,  and  he  said  that  he  would  see 
me.  I  marched  up  to  the  palace  bold  as 
brass,  but  very  much  frightened  and 
awed,  I  don't  quite  know  why.  The 
archbishop  was  walking  in  his  garden. 
154 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

It  was  quite  warm  out  of  doors,  and,  late 
as  it  is,  there  were  a  few  roses  blooming, 
and  some  violets.  There  is  a  little  mossy 
tank  in  the  garden,  full  of  carp,  and  the 
archbishop  was  feeding  them  with  little 
bits  of  bread.  There  were  a  number  of 
pigeons  about  his  feet,  and  he  was  feeding 
them  too.  The  priest  who  was  accom 
panying  me  whispered  something  to  the 
archbishop,  and  left  us.  The  archbishop 
brushed  the  crumbs  from  his  hands,  and 
turned  to  me  with  the  quaintest  and  most 
courteous  little  bow.  I  don't  know  how 
old  he  is,  but  his  hair  is  white,  his  face 
thin  and  wrinkled  and  rather  austere;  but 
when  he  smiles  there  is  something  very 
charming  and  young  about  him. 

"  You  should  see  my  garden  in  spring," 
he  said,  "  for  then  it  is  nearly  as  beauti 
ful  as  you.  Shall  we  walk,  or  do  you  pre 
fer  to  go  indoors  ?  " 

"  I  love  it  out  here,"  I  said. 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  the  archbishop;  "  so 
do  I.  Shall  I  show  you  my  famous 


carp? 


155 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

We  stood  side  by  side  at  the  edge  of  the 
tank,  and  the  archbishop  pointed  out  the 
various  fish  and  told  me  their  ages  and 
characters.  All  the  while  I  stood  there  I 
kept  thinking  that  I  was  his  daughter. 

"  Louis  passes,"  said  he;  and  he  pointed 
to  a  great,  slow-moving,  mossy  fish  with 
dull  eyes.  "  He  has  the  letters  L.  R. 
carved  on  him,"  he  said,  "  and  they  are 
supposed  to  stand  for  Louis  Rex  and  to 
have  been  carved  by  the  Grand  Monarch 
himself.  These  fishes,  as  you  are  doubt 
less  aware,  live  to  an  incredible  age. 
This  Louis  of  mine,  like  the  great  king  for 
whom  he  is  named,  is  vain,  proud,  and 
selfish." 

And  he  ran  on,  talking,  laughing,  and 
explaining,  and  saying  pretty  things  to 
me,  until  I  could  have  kissed  him.  Then 
quite  suddenly  he  began  to  talk  gravely 
about  the  things  that  count,  and  then 
about  me  and  my  affairs. 

'  You  have  come  to  me  on  a  grave  mat 
ter,  daughter,"  he  said,  "  and  I  have  been 
thinking  what  to  say  to  you.     Just  what 
156 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

your  religion  means  to  you  I  have  no  way 
of  knowing,  and  you  must  tell  me;  for 
even  a  religion  lightly  held  by  is  not  to  be 
given  up  lightly.  Are  you  strong  in  faith 
and  in  the  articles  which  you  have  been 
taught  ?  Or  is  your  mind  open  to  persua 
sion  and  earnest  to  understand?" 

"I  'm  afraid,"  I  said,  "that  I  have 
never  thought  very  much  about  it.  My 
people  were  not  church-going  people.  I 
do  truly  believe  in  God,"  I  said;  "but 
what  the  difference  may  be  between 
your  religion  and  mine,  I  'm  sure  I  don't 
know." 

'You  do  truly  believe  in  God?"  said 
the  archbishop. 

"  I  do,"  said  I. 

"  Then  there  is  no  difference  between 
your  religion  and  mine,"  he  said.  "  If 
different  sects  the  world  over  believed 
more  in  God  and  less  in  themselves  there 
would  not  be  so  much  quarreling." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  I  Ve  got  to  join  the 
church  that  my  husband  belongs  to,  and  I 
don't  know  how  to  do  it." 
157 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

"  You  do  truly  believe  in  God?  " 

"  I  do." 

"  Then  already  it  is  as  good  as  done." 

"  But  are  n't  there  certain  forms  to  go 
through,  and  things  to  learn,  and  books 
that  I  must  read?  I  've  heard  so." 

"  I  will  appoint  a  good  and  wise  man 
to  give  you  instruction." 

I  thanked  him.  Then  he  took  my  hand 
and  patted  it. 

"  It  is  good  to  be  young,"  he  said. 

I  called  him  "  mon  pere,"  and  told  him 
that  I  was  so  happy  that  I  could  n't  be 
sure  whether  my  feet  touched  the  ground 
or  not. 

"  Many  years  ago,"  said  the  archbishop, 
"  I  was  as  young  as  you.  I  lived  in  a 
land  where  there  were  always  sunshine 
and  flowers.  At  about  a  league  from  my 
father's  farm  there  was  another  farm, 
about  which  all  my  thought  and  youth 
centered.  When  my  day's  work  was 
ended,  and  I  had  come  back  from  the 
fields,  I  would  put  on  my  Sunday  blouse, 
— it  was  of  blue  stuff  and  very  handsome, 
158 


ELLEN   AND   MR.   MAN 

I  thought, — patiently  comb  my  stubborn 
hair  before  the  little  cracked  mirror  in  the 
room  of  my  mother  and  father,  and  stride 
off  through  the  meadows— knee-deep  in 
poppies — to  that  other  farm.  She  was 
not  so  beautiful  as  you,  but  there  was 
something  lovely  about  her  face  that,  for 
me,  is  beyond  description.  I  began  going 
when  I  was  a  little  boy;  I  kept  on  going 
till  the  day  of  her  death. 

'''  It  was  a  lovely  evening.  They  told 
me  that  she  had  come  in  with  her  arms 
full  of  flowers,  and  that  for  a  long  time 
she  had  sat  silently  with  the  flowers  in  her 
lap.  Then  she  had  said  to  her  mother, 
'  Mother,  my  head  hurts  me '  ('  Ma  tete  me 
fait  douleur'),  and  then  suddenly  and 
hurriedly,  as  if  she  feared  that  there 
would  not  be  time,  she  said  in  a  clear 
voice,  '  Almighty  God,  be  good  to  Jean ! ' 
and  one  by  one  the  flowers  slipped  from 
her  lap,  and  she  died. 

"  A  little  later  I  came  striding  through 
the  meadows,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  my 
heart  was  in  flower.  Her  old  father  met 
159 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

me,  and  led  me  to  the  house,  saying  over 
and  over  (for  he  was  very  old),  '  My  boy, 
have  God  in  your  heart— have  God  in 
your  heart.'  Then  we  pulled  off  our  caps 
and  went  in.  ... 

"  They  left  us  alone  together.  They 
had  brought  in  her  bed  and  laid  her  upon 
it,  with  the  flowers  about  her  that  she  had 
gathered.  They  were  poppies,  red  pop 
pies,  and  already  they  had  begun  to  fade. 

"  I  sat  by  her  side,  and  held  her  cold 
hand,  all  that  night,  and  no  one  came  to 
interrupt  us.  Just  before  the  first  flush 
of  the  morning,  I  seemed  to  see  a  great 
green  meadow  full  of  poppies,  and  stand 
ing  in  the  midst,  God,  and  she  was  kneel 
ing  at  his  feet  and  praying  to  him  for 
my  immortal  soul.  Then  God,  stooping 
over  her,  said :  '  Will  it  make  you  happy, 
dear,  if  I  save  Jean's  soul  ?  '  And  she 
said  that  it  would.  And  God  said :  '  But 
I  cannot  save  Jean's  soul  all  by  myself; 
he  must  help  me.'  And  then,  with  lovely 
tears  in  her  eyes,  she  promised  for  me 
that  I  would  be  good. 
1 60 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

"  That,  my  daughter,"  said  the  arch 
bishop,  "  is  why  I  am  an  archbishop,  and 
why  your  face,  so  beautiful  and  full  of 
love,  is  such  a  solace  to  my  old  heart.  The 
old  priest  has  never  spoken  of  this  before 
—but  something  in  your  face  .  .  .  You 
should  see  this  bush,"  he  said,  "  when  it 
is  covered  with  camellias." 

He  walked  all  the  way  to  the  gate  with 
me,  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  my 
forehead. 

''  Have  God  in  your  heart,"  he  said, 
"  for  there  is  some  one  waiting  for  you." 

Then  he  looked  quite  a  long  time  into 
my  eyes,  and  tears  came  in  his. 

"  Also  for  me,"  he  said,  "  there  is  some 
one  waiting." 


n 


161 


XVII 

'ADAME  LA  VICOMTESSE 
(she  of  the  solitaire  mountain), 
in  her  great  and  well-known 
graciousness,  asked  Ellen  to  bring  Lan- 
geais  and  me  to  tea.  We  went.  Madame 
was  very  nice  to  Langeais,  and  showed 
him  all  the  pretty  things  in  her  house. 
She  also  told  him  how  she  had  sent 
Ellen's  photograph  to  her  brother,  and 
how  she  had  hoped  to  kindle  a  match  by 
so  doing.  She  talked  more  of  her  brother 
than  she  did  of  Langeais  and  Ellen, 
which,  under  the  circumstances,  seemed 
a  little  forced.  Finally  she  told  Viridique 
to  get  down  "  les  albums  de  monsieur." 
Viridique  brought  the  fat  volumes,  and 
madame  selected  one  of  them.  "  Ellen," 
she  said,  "  if  you  and  Pat-a-Pouf  will  sit 
beside  me,  and  if  monsieur  will  look 
162 


ELLEN   AND   MR.   MAN 

over  my  shoulder,  I  will  show  you  some 
pretty  pictures." 

She  opened  the  album,  and  we  saw  a 
vast  and  shining-  house  that  stood  upon  a 
bluff  which  had  its  granite  feet  in  a  river. 
A  sea-going  steamer-yacht  tugged  at  her 
moorings,  and  made  two  long  streaks  of 
white  in  the  current. 

"  That  is  my  brother's  place  in  Can 
ada,"  said  madame— "  an  infinitesimal 
portion  of  it.  It  is  on  an  island  which 
even  a  good  woodman  cannot  make  the 
length  of  under  three  days.  The  house 
has  upward  of  a  hundred  rooms,  and 
there  is  a  stable  containing  forty  horses." 

She  turned  the  page. 

"  The  deer-park.  There  are,"  she  said, 
"  five  square  leagues  inclosed  in  wire,  in 
which  dwell  deer  of  all  kinds,  elk  and 
moose  and  bison.  But  they  are  pets;  my 
brother  does  his  shooting  in  the  wild,  and 
enters  here  only  with  his  camera." 

There  followed  a  series  of  wonderful 
pictures  of  wild  animals,  over  which  I 
nearly  went  crazy.  Madame  turned  page 
163 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

after  page,  until  your  mouth  fairly  wa 
tered  to  have  such  a  place  of  your  own. 
It  beat  any  king's  place  I  ever  saw: 
there  were  wild  woodlands,  huge  trees, 
barrens,  splendid  stretches  of  shore  and 
river,  and  over  all  an  atmosphere  clear  as 
crystal  and  intoxicating  like  champagne. 
The  last  picture  in  that  album  was  of  a 
sunny  place  in  the  woods.  At  the  back 
was  a  perpendicular  rock,  from  whose 
midst  sprang  a  curved  rod  of  foaming 
water  that  filled  the  prettiest  little  round 
basin  at  the  foot  of  the  rock.  Off  to  the 
left,  half  hidden  among  the  trees,  was  a 
low  rustic  structure  with  a  gabled  roof. 
A  board  walk  led  from  it  to  the  edge  of 
the  pool  and  terminated  in  a  workmanlike- 
looking  spring-board. 

"  Over  the  fireplace  in  the  bath-house," 
said  madame,  "  there  is  engraved  a  verse 
which  is  familiar  to  you  all.  You  may 
each  have  one  guess.  Ellen?  " 

Ellen  had  been  trying  very  hard  not  to 
be  interested  in  the  pictures. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  if  that  water  is  as 
164 


ELLEN   AND   MR.   MAN 

cold  as  it  looks,  I  think  the  verse  ought 
to  be: 

'  Malbrouk  s'en  va-t-en  guerre, 
Ne  sais  quand  reviendra.'  " 

Madame  laughed.  "  And  you,  Pat-a- 
Pouf ,  what  do  you  guess  ?  " 

But  I,  being  put  upon,  could  only  giggle 
and  stammer.  Indeed,  even  if  I  had  been 
perfectly  calm  and  alone  with  Walter  or 
Maurice,  I  doubt  if  I  should  have  remem 
bered  any  apt  poetry  about  bathing. 

'  There  is,"  said  Langeais,  "  only  one 
verse  in  Canadian  literature — and  I  take 
it  that  your  brother  will  have  drawn  from 
Canadian  literature  to  inscribe  his  Cana 
dian  place— which  is  suitable."  And  he 
hummed : 

"  A  la  claire  fontaine 
M'en  allant  promener, 
J'ai  trouvee  1'eau  si  belle 
Que  je  m'y  suis  baigner." 

*  You  have  guessed  correctly,"  said 
madame. 

165 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

"  It  was  not  guessing,"  said  Langeais, 
"  but  certainty." 

"How  certainty?"  said  madame. 

"  Why,  look  at  the  picture,"  said  he. 

Madame  smiled  and  closed  the  album, 
while  Ellen  sent  an  adoring  glance  at  the 
sagacious  lover. 

"  It  must  be  pleasant,"  said  Langeais, 
"  for  a  man  to  give  such  presents  to  the 
woman  he  loves." 

:<  Far  pleasanter,"  said  Ellen,  "  for  him 
to  think  that  he  can  make  her  happy  with 
out  giving  her  anything  of  the  kind." 

'  The  chocolate-works,"  said  madame, 
opening  a  second  volume. 

'  I  won't  look  at  any  more  pictures," 
said  Ellen,  laughing;  "you  are  trying  to 
make  us  envious,  and  you  are  a  naughty 
lady." 

'  But  just  one  picture  more,"  said 
madame.  She  took  up  another  volume 
and  turned  over  the  leaves  rapidly  until 
she  found  the  picture  she  wanted.  It  rep 
resented  upward  of  a  hundred  little  chil 
dren  with  caps  and  dresses  just  alike. 
They  looked  like  so  many  happy  little 
166 


But  just  one  picture  more,'  said  madame  " 


ELLEN  AND  MR.  MAN 

lambs,  and  six  sisters  with  gentle  faces 
stood  among  them.  I  happened  to  look  at 
Langeais  and  see  that  he  was  blushing 
violently  to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 

"  Being  unmarried,  and  having  no  chil 
dren  of  his  own,"  said  madame,  "  it 
pleases  my  brother  to  have  good  care 
taken  of  these  little  orphans." 

Ellen  bent  over  the  picture  (she  was  so 
easily  moved  by  little  children) ;  then  she 
said: 

"  He  must  be  a  very  good  man." 

Madame  closed  the  book. 

"  One  more  picture,"  she  said. 

She  arose,  and  crossing  to  her  writing- 
desk,  returned  with  a  photograph  which 
she  placed  in  Ellen's  hand. 

"  My  brother,"  she  said. 

Ellen  gave  a  little  cry. 

I  do  not  know  quite  how,  but  I  was  in 
the  next  room  with  madame,  and  she  was 
laughing  softly. 

'  But  why,  then,"  said  Ellen,  "  have  we 
leased  Rue  des  Guetteries  dix  for  five 
years?  " 

167 


ELLEN    AND   MR.  MAN 

'  We  have  not  leased  it,"  said  the  choc 
olate  king;  "we  have  bought  it.  And 
hereafter  no  one  shall  live  in  that  house." 
The  next  day,  the  man  who,  as  Lan- 
geais,  must  have  felt  all  the  time  as  sup 
pressed  as  a  butterfly  in  a  cocoon,  began 
to  spend  money. 


1 68 


XVIII 

1HE  Teaches  made  a  great  deal 
of  Christmas  that  year.  There 
was  a  surprise  waiting  for  us 
children  in  the  dining-room  at  La  Chan- 
terie,  and  we  made  an  excited  group  in 
the  hall,  waiting  for  the  door  to  be  opened. 
It  was  even  rumored  that  there  were  to  be 
many,  various,  divers,  and  enchanting 
presents  for  us  all. 

The  doors  were  thrown  back,  and  in  we 
wyent,  with  our  mouths  wide  open.  There 
was  no  standing  back  to  let  the  little  girls 
go  in  first.  It  \vas  no  time  for  manners.  I 
had  mechanically  taken  a  tight  hold  of 
Blanche's  hand,  and  for  fully  five  minutes 
after  we  had  entered  the  dining-room  I 
neither  let  go  of  it  nor  seemed  conscious 
of  holding  it. 

In  the  middle  of  the  room  a  Christmas 
169 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

tree  was  in  full  blaze.  But  at  first  sight 
(and  this  made  us  all  very  nervous)  there 
was  nothing  that  looked  like  presents. 
Against  one  side  of  the  room  was  a  line  of 
tables,  upon  which,  with  infinite  pains  and 
much  ingenuity,  Mrs.  Teach,  aided  by 
Mme.  Dupin,  had  arranged  a  series  of 
pictures  representing  scenes  connected 
with  the  birth  of  Christ.  There  were  the 
desert  and  the  wise  men  and  the  star,  and 
the  manger  (with  real  straw),  and  little 
cows  and  sheep,  and  angels  with  wings, 
and  Mary  and  Joseph;  and  they  were  a 
great  wonder  to  behold,  and  we  admired 
our  hostess  for  making  them,  but  were  still 
nervous,  for  as  yet  there  had  been  no  talk 
of  presents  or  supper.  Suddenly,  then, 
the  lights  went  out.  There  was  a  sound 
in  the  darkness,  and  when  the  lights  went 
up,  everybody  seemed  to  know  what  had 
happened,  and,  for  a  little,  Blanche  and  I, 
holding  hands  and  blushing  to  the  roots 
of  our  respective  heads  of  hair,  were  more 
the  center  of  attention  than  the  gigantic 
and  florid  Santa  Claus  who,  an  immense 
170 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

and  bulging  pack  upon  his  back,  had  ap 
peared  among  us  from  Heaven  knows 
where.  But  then  we  were  forgotten,  and 
little  shrieks  of  rapture  and  giggles  of 
awe  ensued.  Only  the  older  children 
knew  that  Santa  Claus  never  really  ap 
pears  in  flesh  and  blood,  that  the  good 
saint  is  old  and  rheumatic  from  too  much 
driving  in  the  snow,  and  has  to  keep  to  his 
mansion  in  the  skies  (indeed,  any  physi 
cian  of  standing  will  tell  you  that  expo 
sure  would  be  fatal  to  the  old  fellow),  and 
that  he  does  his  benevolent  and  generous 
work  the  world  over  through  trusted  depu 
ties— mothers  and  fathers  and  aunts  and 
uncles  and  old  bachelors.  But  to  us  little 
children  it  seemed  that  we  were  in  the 
presence  of  the  real  man.  And  we  were 
particularly  pleased  that  he  should  select 
Ellen  to  help  him  give  out  presents.  What 
shall  I  say  of  the  presents  we  all  got? 
How  had  the  good  saint  been  able  to  dis 
criminate  so  well,  how  discover  what  each 
child  desired  before  all  things,  how  been 
able  to  afford  so  much?  And  where,  oh, 
171 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

where  did  he  disappear  to  when  the  lights 
went  out,  and  why,  oh,  why,  when  they 
were  relighted,  was  Ellen  discovered 
blushing,  even  as  Blanche  and  I  had 
blushed? 

Langeais— but  his  name  now  is  Claude 
St.  Anne— joined  us  at  supper,  and  the 
first  toast  that  was  drunk  (for  the  grown 
ups  had  plenty  of  champagne)  was  to 
Ellen's  future  happiness  and  his.  After 
supper  we  danced  and  played  games.  The 
hall  was  cleared  of  rugs,  and  the  first 
dance  was  a  good  old  romping  Virginia 
reel  (only  the  Knollys  boys  called  it  "  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverley  " ) ,  in  which  I  danced 
with  Blanche.  Then  we  danced  round 
dances  and  played  musical  games  in 
which  London  Bridge  fell  down,  or 
one  danced  in  a  round  "  sur  le  Pont 
d' Avignon."  We  played  blindman's- 
buff,  pom-pom-pull-away,  still-pond-no 
more-moving,  oats-peas-beans-and-barley- 
grows,  stage-coach,  going-to- Jerusalem 
(Blanche  and  I  were  the  last  left  in,  and 
I  slipped  and  fell  gallantly  so  that  she 
172 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

might  win,  though  more  than  anxious  to 
be  myself  the  successful  pilgrim),  kiss-in- 
the-ring,  and  all  the  best  games.  When 
ever  it  was  up  to  me  to  select  the  girl  I 
loved  the  best,  and  (thank  God!)  kiss  her, 
I  brazenly  selected  Blanche.  And  when 
ever  it  was  her  turn,  the  shy  and  silent 
one  selected  me,  so  that  all  that  evening 
my  heart  beat  with  a  great  and  returned 
love.  Then,  when  we  had  danced  and 
played  to  our  heart's  content  and  to  the 
complete  disordering  of  our  clothes,  we 
were  made  to  sit  down  in  long  expectant 
rows,  and  who  should  enter  to  us  but  the 
archbishop  himself?  He  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross,  and  instantly  a  hush  came 
over  us  all. 

"  Dear  children,"  he  said,  "  many  years 
ago,  on  this  very  night,  a  little  child  was 
born  in  a  manger.  If  he  had  not  been 
born,  then  this  night  would  have  been  as 
other  nights;  there  would  have  been  no 
presents,  no  dances,  no  singing,  and  no 
games.  Little  Lord  Jesus  came  into  the 
world  to  make  us  happy.  I  believe  that  he 
173 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

was  very  much  like  other  little  children, 
and  that  he  wanted  playthings,  and  to  play 
and  dance  just  as  much  as  you  do.  And 
perhaps,  when  he  was  very  little  indeed, 
he  saw  the  moon  and  cried  for  it,  just  as 
we  have  all  done.  But  when  he  grew  a 
little  older  and  began  to  think  for  himself, 
he  realized  that  having  things  for  himself 
and  doing  things  for  himself  would  never, 
never  make  him  happy.  He  thought  about 
this  a  great  deal,  because  he  wanted  so 
much  to  be  happy,  and  after  a  while  he 
said  to  himself :  '  Many  things  give  me 
pleasure;  but  which  gives  me  the  most 
pleasure?  If  I  can  find  out  that,  and 
never  do  anything  else,  why  then,  of 
course,  I  will  always,  always  be  happy.' 
And  so  he  questioned  himself,  and  said, 
'  Of  all  my  playthings  which  do  I  love  the 
best  ?  '  For  his  adopted  father  was  a  car 
penter  named  Joseph,  and  sometimes 
made  little  toys  for  his  children ;  and  after 
holding  them  all  in  his  arms  for  a  long 
time,  little  Lord  Jesus  decided  that  the 
choice  lay  between  his  wooden  horse  and 
174 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

his  little  wooden  boat.  Finally  he  put  the 
boat  to  one  side.  '  I  love  the  horse  best,' 
he  said;  and  then  he  was  terribly  afraid 
lest  he  might  have  hurt  the  feelings  of  the 
boat  and  the  other  toys,  and  he  tried  to 
make  himself  believe  that  he  loved  them 
all  best,  and  he  took  them  all  back  into  his 
arms  and  played  with  them.  Then  he 
thought  over  all  the  occupations  of  the 
day,  and  said  to  himself,  '  Which  gives  me 
the  most  pleasure  ? '  And  it  seemed  to  him 
that  playing  with  the  horses  and  the  cows 
and  the  sheep,  and  gathering  the  flowers 
in  the  fields,  were  the  most  pleasant  things 
that  he  did.  But  then  he  remembered  that 
one  day,  doing  these  things,  he  had  re 
mained  away  from  home  too  long,  and  re 
turning,  had  found  his  mother  weeping 
with  anxiety  over  him.  That  had  taken 
away  all  the  memory  of  pleasure.  So  he 
said :  '  Playing  all  day  is  not  true  happi 
ness,  because  something  may  easily  hap 
pen  to  take  away  all  the  pleasure  of  it.' 

"  One  day  little  Lord  Jesus  was  play 
ing  with  his  toys  in  front  of  the  house 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

where  he  lived.  While  he  was  playing  a 
little  beggar  child  came  down  the  road, 
and  leaning  on  the  gate,  watched  him  with 
wistful  eyes.  The  beggar  child  had  no 
toys  of  his  own,  and  he  wept  to  see  the 
toys  that  little  Lord  Jesus  had;  and  after 
a  time  he  begged  little  Lord  Jesus  (for 
he  was  a  beggar  child  and  knew  no  better) 
to  give  him  one  of  them.  Little  Lord  Jesus 
was  only  a  little  child,  and  it  grieved  him, 
the  thought  of  parting  with  his  toys.  But 
there  was  something  in  him  different  from 
what  is  in  other  little  boys,  and,  although 
himself  ready  to  weep,  he  took  the  little 
wooden  horse,  his  most  treasured  pos 
session,  and  gave  it  to  the  beggar  child. 
Such  an  expression  as  came  over  the  beg 
gar  child's  face  little  Lord  Jesus  had 
never  seen  before,  and,  at  the  sight  of  it, 
all  desire  to  weep  left  him,  and  instead  a 
wonderful  feeling  of  joy  leaped  out  of  his 
heart  and  spread  all  over  him.  He  had 
found  the  secret  of  happiness.  It  was  to 
make  others  happy. 

"  Little  Lord  Jesus  after  that  was  dif- 
176 


ELLEN    AND    MR.  MAN 

ferent  from  other  children.  He  forgot  his 
toys  and  his  games,  and  he  thought  only 
of  how  he  might  make  others  happy.  God, 
whose  Son  he  was,  had  seen  that  the  world 
and  all  men  were  unhappy,  and  so  he  had 
sent  him  to  teach  the  world  and  all  men  the 
way  to  be  happy.  Lord  Jesus  has  taught 
us  that  to  be  happy  we  must  make  others 
happy,  not  some  of  the  time,  but  all  of  the 
time,  and  that  the  only  way  in  which  we 
can  bring  that  about  is  by  being  good  and 
pure  and  forgetting  ourselves.  But  we 
are  slow  to  understand  these  things,  and 
although  the  world  is  happier  than  it  was, 
it  is  not  yet  perfectly  happy.  Nearly  two 
thousand  years  ago,  Lord  Jesus  died  on 
the  cross.  Many  men  have  given  their 
lives  for  the  cause  of  happiness,  but  Lord 
Jesus  did  more  than  that.  He  gave  up 
every  day  of  his  life  to  that  cause.  And 
when  the  world  at  length  comes  to  be  per 
fectly  happy  it  will  be  because  Lord  Jesus 
lived  and  because  he  died." 


12  177 


XIX 

T  had  never  occurred  to  me  but 
that  St.  Anne  in  marrying  Ellen 
was  marrying  me  as  well  and 
that  I  should  be  an  important  part  of 
his  so  many  establishments.  It  was 
Walter  who  first  told  me  that  three 
is  company  and  two  is  none.  We  were 
strolling  together  in  the  zoological  gar 
den  at  the  time,  talking  grown-up,  and 
swearing  that  we  would  never  separate. 
We  were  to  be  African  explorers:  there 
was  no  doubt  of  that.  We  were  fitted  for 
it  by  knowledge  as  well  as  temperament, 
for  we  had  both  read  "  King  Solomon's 
Mines  "  and  "  She,"  while  in  the  old  days 
at  home  I  had  gone  several  times  through 
Du  Chaillu's  first  book  from  cover  to 
cover.  We  found  infinite  pleasure  in  dis- 
178 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

cussing  equipments,  the  merits  of  express- 
rifles  versus  repeaters,  how  best  to  avoid 
the  rush  of  a  wounded  buffalo  bull,  and 
how  to  win  the  dog-like  affection  of  sav 
age  and  intractable  cannibals.  The  zoo 
\vas  a  fine  place  for  laying  plans:  one 
could  examine  with  safety  the  striped  tiger 
and  decide  upon  the  best  place  to  penetrate 
him  with  the  fatal  bullet;  one  could  find 
the  weak  point  (there  is  none)  in  the  hip 
popotamus's  harness;  and  one  could  be 
come  nearly  satisfied  as  to  which  part  of 
the  gentle  venison  was  the  haunch.  Wal 
ter  described  in  detail  how  he  killed  his 
first  elephant.  It  was  a  perfect  Roland 
of  a  tale,  and  I  gave  him  back  an  Oliver— 
the  account  of  how  I  circumvented  a  boa- 
constrictor  and  made  a  right  and  left  on 
running  lions.  Then  we  both  told  how  we 
met  at  evening  and  discussed  the  day's 
work  over  a  gourd  of  palm-wine  and  our 
fragrant  cheroots. 

We  were  regarding  a  bird  of  the  crane 
type,  very  long-legged,  having  a  red  top 
knot  and  a  bill  like  half  a  small  pickax. 
179 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

Walter  tossed  him  (I  think  it  was  a  him) 
a  large  and  irony  piece  of  bread  that  had 
been  in  his  pocket  for  some  days.  The 
crane  caught  the  same  and  made  a  beati 
fic  attempt  to  swallow  it  without  masti 
cation  ;  it  stuck  about  a  foot  from  his  head 
and  a  foot  from  his  body.  The  crane 
smiled  a  silly  smile,  coughed  slightly,  and 
then  choked.  He  was  a  dignified  crea 
ture,  and  greatly  admired  by  the  other 
fowls,  but  choking  was  too  much  for  his 
equanimity.  He  rose  some  fourteen  feet 
on  flapping  wings,  opened  his  bill  the 
widest  possible,  and  kicked  out  violently  in 
every  direction  under  the  sun.  When  he 
had  descended,  he  ran  round  in  a  little  cir 
cle,  his  bill  still  wide  open,  and  rose  again. 
After  that  he  danced  in  the  most  admirable 
and  fantastic  manner,  first  on  one  leg 
and  then  on  the  other.  By  these  manceti- 
vers  he  succeeded  in  swallowing  the  bread. 
At  that  calm  seized  him,  and  he  walked 
gravely  up  and  own,  to  the  admiration 
of  the  other  fowls.  Walter  and  I  finished 
our  laugh,  leaning  on  the  rail  that  sur- 
180 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

rounded  the  aviary.  We  strolled  farther 
through  the  garden  and  sat  down  on  a 
bench  under  a  big  tree.  It  was  some 
months  after  the  last  chapter,  and  the  be 
ginnings  of  spring — a  sort  of  green  mist 
cast  over  all  growing  things,  warmth,  jon 
quils,  rare  tulips,  and  the  songs  of  birds- 
were  with  us. 

'  They  are  going  to  be  married  on  the 
first  day  of  May,"  I  said,—  "  it 's  just  been 
decided,— in  the  cathedral,  by  the  arch 
bishop." 

"  That  '11  be  great,"  said  Walter,  "  and 
then  what  becomes  of  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  'm  going  to  live  with  them," 
I  said. 

"  But  I  mean  during  the  honeymoon. 
You  can't  go  on  that." 

"  What  's  a  honeymoon,  Walter  ?  " 

"Why,"  said  Walter,  "when  people  get 
married,  they  like  to  go  away  and  be  alone 
and  talk  it  over.  That 's  called  the  honey 
moon.  They  usually  go  to  some  place 
they  Ve  never  been  to  before  and  get  used 
to  living  together.  They  make  lots  of 
181 


ELLEN    AND    MR.   MAN 

mistakes  at  first,  I  suppose,  and  don't  want 
people  around  to  see  them." 

k<  How  long  is  a  honeymoon?  " 

"  I  Ve  heard  of  honeymoons  lasting  for 
years,"  said  Walter. 

"  Then  I  don't  see  what  I  'm  going  to 
do,"  I  said,  with  a  quaver.  ;'  I  suppose  I 
could  stay  here  and  keep  house  with  Eu 
genie  till  they  came  back." 

We  discussed  the  possibility  of  my  do 
ing  that. 

"  Of  course,"  said  I,  "  I  would  n't  go 
to  school,  and  I  'd  have  you  to  stay  with 
me,  and  perhaps  we  could  get  a  gun  and 
practise  shooting  in  the  yard." 

The  next  time  I  was  alone  with  Ellen  I 
asked  her  point-blank  what  was  to  become 
of  me  after  her  marriage. 

"  Why,  you  are  to  live  with  us !  "  she 
said. 

"  But  during  the  honeymoon  ?  " 

Ellen  laughed. 

'  The  vicomtesse  is  going  to  ask  you  to 
visit  her  until  we  come  back." 
182 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

"  Ellen,"  I  said,  "  I .  have  heard  of 
honeymoons  lasting  for  years.  I  think, 
though,"  I  added  tentatively,  "  that  those 
must  be  the  kind  very  stupid  people  have, 
because  it  would  n't  take  years  for  clever 
people  to  get  used  to  each  other,  would  it  ? 
You  and  Claude  ought  not  to  take  more 
than  a  week,"  I  said,  with  conviction. 

Later  that  same  day  I  had  a  chance  at 
St.  Anne. 

"  Claude,"  I  said,  "  how  long  do  you 
think  your  honeymoon  will  last?  " 

"  Pat-a-Pouf,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  think: 
I  know.  It  will  last  forever." 

That  was  a  facer.  I  was  to  be  enticed 
to  the  home  of  the  vicomtesse,  there  to  re 
main  till  the  end  of  forever.  I  restrained 
my  tears  with  difficulty  until  I  got  to  my 
room.  There  I  let  them  go,  until,  suicidal 
and  exhausted,  I  fell  asleep.  I  maintained 
a  dignified  calm  during  dinner,  and  after 
dinner  I  sat  apart  and  wrote  a  letter  to  my 
maternal  grandfather,  Richard  Chestleton. 
I  had  never  before  addressed  him.  I  had 
seen  only  his  picture.  I  knew  only  that  he 
183 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

was  my  grandfather,  and  that  he  lived  in 
Charleston.    I  began: 

DEAR  GRANDPAPA  :  Ellen  is  going  to  be 
marred  on  the  first  of  May  and  Claude  says  the 
honeymoon  they  are  to  have  is  going  to  last 
forever  and  Walter  says  I  can't  live  with  them 
till  it  is  over  so  I  have  no  place  to  go  and  I 
thot  maybe  you  would  like  for  me  to  come  and 
live  with  you  if  you  would  like  it  I  would  like 
it  if  you  would  rite  and  tel  me  to  come  I  would 
like  to  bring  Blanche  who  is  an  orfan  and  I  will 
ask  misses  Teach  about  it  Ellen  mite  not  like  it 
if  she  new  I  rote  you  first  so  if  you  want  me 
could  you  rite  as  if  I  had  not  ritten  to  you  first 
this  is  a  fotograf  of  me  which  I  am  sending 
which  a  man  took  in  January. 

Your  loving  Grandson 

EDWARD  HOLINSHED  JR. 

Richard  Chestleton  proved  to  be  a  brick. 
Two  days  before  Ellen's  wedding  I  re 
ceived  his  answer.  It  ran  thus: 

MY  DEAR  GRANDSON:     I    learn  that  your 
beautiful  aunt  Ellen  Holinshed  is  to  be  married 
shortly,  and  I  have  been  thinking  that  perhaps 
184 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

you  will  wish  to  leave  her  for  a  time.  Why, 
then,  don't  you  come  to  Charleston  and  make 
friends  with  a  lonely  old  man  who  happens  to 
be  your  dear  mother's  father?  I  cannot  prom 
ise  you  much  during  the  summer,  for  it  is  very 
hot  where  I  live,  but  in  the  autumn,  if  you  like 
dogs  and  guns  and  fine  snappy  weather,  I  think 
we  can  make  things  agreeable  for  you.  I  will 
write  to  your  father  in  New  York,  and  ask  him 
to  meet  the  steamer  by  which  you  arrive,  and 
send  you  on  to  me,  or,  if  my  engagements  per 
mit,  I  will  meet  you  in  New  York  myself.  It 
is  high  time  we  saw  something  of  one  another, 
my  dear  boy,  and  something  tells  me  that  we 
shall  understand  each  other  and  be  friends. 
Your  loving  grandfather, 

RICHARD  CHESTLETON. 

Perhaps  I  did  n't  assume  airs  with  that 
letter  to  back  me. 

"  Ellen,"  I  said  at  dinner,  "  I  have  about 
made  up  my  mind  to  go  home." 

"  Mr.  Man,"  she  cried,  "  what  do  you 
mean !  " 

'But  when  you  and  Claude  come  to 
Canada,"  I  said,  "  I  '11  visit  you." 

"  But,"  said  Ellen,  "  you  're  to  stay  with 
185 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

the  vicomtesse  for  a  little  while— just  a 
little  while— and  then  you  are  going  to 
live  with  me  always." 

"  Ellen,"  I  said,  "  I  want  to  be  an  Amer 
ican." 

"  Pat-a-Pouf,"  said  Claude,  "  you  are 
talking  excellent  sense." 

"But,"  said  Ellen,  "if  I  let  you  go 
home,  whom  will  you  go  to?  " 

I  showed  my  letter. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Man !  "  cried  Ellen  when  she 
had  read  it.  "  Have  n't  you  been  happy 
with  me?  Do  you  want  to  leave  me?  " 

"  No,  Ellen,"  I  said,  "  I  don't— but-" 
and  I  burst  into  tears. 

They  could  not  shake  my  determination 
to  go  home,  for  I  was  homesick. 


186 


XX 

PARTED  from  Blanche  only 
after  uttering  the  most  everlast 
ing  vows.  The  Knollys  gave  a 
farewell  party  to  me  at  Rougemont, 
and  Blanche  and  I  hid  behind  the  lilac- 
bushes  to  say  good-by.  Even  at  the  time 
it  struck  me  as  a  peculiarly  satisfactory 
good-by.  The  shy  and  silent  one  burst 
into  the  most  affectionate  loquacity,  and 
indeed  offered  to  marry  me  inside  of  three 
months  if  I  would  only  stay.  I  told  her 
that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  stay,  but 
that  I  would  never  forget  her,  and  that  if 
she  ever  married  any  one  else  (and  I 
warned  her  against  Maurice)  I  would  keel 
over  and  die  a  miserable  death— prefer 
ably  by  drowning.  In  addition  to  kisses 
(given  and  taken  with  more  freedom  than 
fancy)  we  exchanged  tokens.  My  gift  to 
187 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

her  was  six  agate  marbles,  and  hers  to  me 
was  a  little  gold  locket  that  had  been  her 
mother's.  In  it  was  a  picture  of  Blanche 
herself.  And  as  I  look  back,  it  seems  to 
me  inexpressibly  touching  that  she  should 
have  given  me  that  sacred  little  treasure. 
And  one  of  the  things  that  I  have  had  rea 
son  to  thank  God  for  is  that  I  have  never 
lost  it  and  never  thought  lightly  of  it.  For 
the  present,  Blanche,  hail  and  farewell ! 

A  trusted  servant  of  St.  Anne's  was  to 
take  me  to  Havre  via  Paris  and  see  me 
embarked  on  the  Lombardie.  He  was  a 
quiet  Englishman  who  dressed  in  black 
and  only  spoke  when  spoken  to.  The 
Knollys  boys  came  to  the  station,  and, 
as  the  train  pulled  out,  they  ran  along  the 
platform  opposite  our  window,  and 
shouted  their  last  farewells.  The  train 
began  to  distance  them,  and  only  Walter, 
running  at  top  speed,  remained  in  sight. 

"  Neddy,"  he  called,  "  don't  ever  forget 
me." 

"  I  won't,  Walter,"  I  wailed  back.  "  I 
won't." 

1 88 


ELLEN   AND    MR.  MAN 

For  a  moment  more  I  beheld  the  hand 
some,  self-reliant  young  face,  the  pure 
blue  eyes  turned  affectionately  meward, 
and  then  a  gust  of  wind  blew  the  smoke  of 
the  locomotive  between  us,  and  I  have 
never  seen  him  since.  But  it  is  my  firm 
conviction  that  the  world  holds  no  finer 
man,  and  some  day  I  shall  make  a  pilgrim 
age  to  find  him. 

I  think  I  wept,  face  down,  on  the  seat  all 
the  way  from  Tours  to  Blois.  Then  I  be 
gan  to  sit  up  and  take  notice  a  little.  My 
servant  had  opened  the  lunch-basket,  and 
everything  was  in  readiness  for  me  to  eat. 

"  What  is  in  that  jar,  Andrews?  " 

"  Rillette  de  Tours,  sir." 

I  remember  smiling — if  feebly. 


189 


Unive 

So 

L 


